


Letters From Tony

by Ytteb



Series: Letters [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reading Tony's letters might tell us a lot about him and what he thinks of the team and the job.</p>
<p>Spoilers for various episodes - see the title of each chapter to see which episode(s) are referred to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. South by South West

Dear Mary

It was great to see you last week ... obviously not good that it was at a funeral but you know what I mean. Hope you enjoyed visiting your sister afterwards – or at least that you managed not to fall out too much with Harold. Has he still got the pigeon loft? I remember being a bit freaked out by all that cooing and the way they looked at me out of those beady little eyes – made me more of a fan of pigeon pie than I might have been otherwise!

Sorry it's taken so long to write again – you know it would be much easier if you'd let me email you but I know that's an argument (another one!) that I'm not going to win. So, I've got the good writing paper out and Mom's Parker pen and I'm sitting nicely at my desk rather than writing this on my lap in front of the TV. It takes me back to writing those weekly letters home from boarding school. Come to think about it, it was probably you I was writing to you in those days. We all know Senior wasn't really interested – unless some new rich boy had been enrolled whose father might turn out to be a potential business 'partner'.

Anyway, I've just come back from Arizona. Yeah, Arizona – where I swore I'd never go again. Turned out that the power of Gibbs' glare pretty much swept that resolution away. I just nodded and went home to pack: packing those fancy cowboy boots Petey gave me was probably not the best idea I ever had. Well, that's what the grumpy local sheriff thought anyway and Gibbs just sighed. We ended up on horseback riding up a mountain to find a local artist who had some connection with an NCIS agent who'd been murdered in DC. Gibbs managed to do a sort of one man Die Hard (yes, that's another movie) stunt when he brought down a helicopter single-handed. Sheriff (good guy really) took a bullet but he's going to be OK. Don't worry, I'm all right too apart from being a bit sore in the ... well, you know where. It's been a long time since those pony parties in Long Island.

Gibbs was a bit grumpy with me the whole trip and had been for a few days before and not just because of the NCIS agent being killed, although that didn't help. I'd been playing phone tag with Uncle Clive's solicitor for a couple of days and, yes, perhaps I'd got a bit overexcited in case it was about the WILL. Ziva thought I'd made up the whole thing about going to Uncle Clive's funeral just to get time off and McGee hadn't even bothered to Google what his surname was. Some investigators they are – although I can almost hear you saying that perhaps they're just not as nosy as I am!

I was excited at the thought that Clive might have remembered me in his will – I loved the guy. That summer I spent in England was great but perhaps I went over the top a bit talking about it to the Probie and perhaps waving a Ferrari brochure around was a mistake. All that 'yabba yabba' probably got on Gibbs' nerves and then he asked me, all gruffly, whether I'd be leaving NCIS if I inherited Uncle Clive's money. You know, Mary, I hadn't really thought it through what I'd do with the money but I started thinking after that conversation over a tin of cold beans (don't ask).

There was a letter from the solicitor waiting for me at home when I got back from Arizona – made sense really that they wouldn't want to tell me over the phone. Once I read the letter I decided what to do. I went to work the next day and made 'the phone call to Uncle Clive's lawyer'. Except that it was Petey on the other end and he fed me the lines we'd agreed. I told the others that Crispian had inherited everything including an IOU I'd given Uncle Clive when I was at OSU and that he was demanding payment with interest. That's probably being a bit mean to Crispian but I still think it was him who locked me in the pigeon loft so a bit of character assassination is some revenge. Anyway, everyone was happy. DiNozzo disappointed again but the team can go on as before. Nothing changes. Gibbs almost smiled.

And what was in the letter from London, you want to know. Well, good old Uncle Clive left me half a million pounds worth of stocks and bonds. Don't worry, I haven't gone out and bought the red Ferrari. Uncle Vincenzo recommended a good broker (an honest one, I checked) and I'm letting him get on with it. I think it was the right thing to do – best to keep it quiet; can you imagine what Senior would do if he found about it? And no-one at work would have believed it if I'd said that I wanted to carry on working – not sure I believe it sometimes!

I'll finish now. Kate sends her love and I send mine too.

Ciao, Tony.

NCISNCIS

'Mary' smiled as she finished reading the letter. Tony was a good correspondent although she knew that she'd hear from him more often if she got an email account ... or rather, if she told him her email address. For a nosy investigator he'd never really probed her about apparently not being on-line but perhaps he enjoyed the ritual of writing the Sunday letters as much as she enjoyed receiving them.

She thought back to the day over thirty years ago when she had first met the DiNozzos and found her life changing. She had been thirty years old, an experienced and trained nanny from England. Clive Paddington and his family had employed her to go to New York to be nanny to eight year old Anthony DiNozzo whose mother Elizabeth DiNozzo née Paddington had died a few months before. The Paddingtons had been a bit tight-lipped but the implication was clear that they didn't quite trust the parenting skills of their beloved Elizabeth's husband. They had tried to persuade Anthony Snr to send his son to England to be cared for but he had refused. The next best thing was to send a British nanny over to make sure all was done properly.

She had arrived at the impressive DiNozzo residence in Long Island where she had first met the very charming Mr DiNozzo who was obviously a bit wary of the whole set up but was determined to keep on the right side of his son's wealthy English relations.

She thought back to what happened next …

_After listening to Mr DiNozzo talk for about an hour she finally suggested that perhaps it would be a good idea to meet her new charge. Mr DiNozzo seemed a bit surprised that anyone would want to meet his son but agreed that this would be a good idea._

_"And where is Anthony at the moment," she asked. Senior was puzzled,_

_"I don't know. I'll call Simpson and ask him, He'll probably know." He pressed a bell and the butler soon entered the room._

_"Where's Junior, Simpson?"_

_"I think he's in the garage, Sir, looking at your new car." Senior looked a bit anxious,_

_"Go and get him, will you, Simpson. I don't want him to get finger marks on the paintwork and I want him to meet Miss Poplar, the new nanny."_

_"Yes, Sir." Simpson cast an appraising look at Miss Poplar as he left on his errand as he tried to weigh up her future place in the DiNozzo household._

_Shortly afterwards, they heard the sound of running footsteps as the child approached. A small boy ran into the room clutching a wet, soapy sponge to his chest and dripping suds on to the parquet flooring._

_"Daddy, Daddy, I've been helping Trevor wash your new car. He's going to show me how to wax it later ... oh, hello," he said when he saw that there was a stranger in the room. He looked a bit uncertain and suddenly rather conscious of the wet sponge which he tried to hide behind his back._

_"Simpson, take that away from Junior and return it to Trevor. Tell him that Junior won't be helping him wax the car."_

_"Yes, Sir. Will that be all?"_

_At Senior's nod, he took the soggy sponge off Tony, smiled at him encouragingly and left the room._

_"Junior, you remember that I said that your Uncle Clive was sending you a nanny from England to help me look after you?"_

_"Yes, Sir."_

_"Good, well, say hello to Miss Miriam Poplar ..."_

_"Mary Poppins!" said Tony in a tone of wonder. Miriam disliked the movie version of Mary Poppins – she thought she gave nannies a bad name and she _never_  gave her children sugar to help their medicine to go down. Up to now she had managed to keep a professional distance from the children in her care but somehow, on that day, as she looked down at the hopeful, bright-eyed young Tony, something in her heart shifted._

_Senior sighed in irritation,_

_"No, Junior, Miriam Poplar, not Mary Poppins. I'm sorry, Miss Poplar, my son is having some hearing difficulties at the moment. He has an appointment with the paediatrician tomorrow"._

_"I'm sorry," said Tony, "Miri ... Mari ... Miriay ..."_

_Miriam took pity on him._

_"Miriam – but it's quite a difficult name to say. Why don't you call me Mary?" Miriam's former colleagues would have been astonished to hear this. The particular, professional Miss Miriam Poplar inviting a child to give her a nickname? Tony looked relieved,_

_"Mary ... er, welcome to America. I didn't mean to be rude but I sort of hoped that you might be Mary Poppins. Mommy and I watched the movie and she read the books to me as well – but I liked the movie more." Tony gazed up at her rather sadly. Miriam, or rather, Mary, looked at him and realised that, indeed, this small child did probably long for a Mary Poppins to come and bring warmth and healing to a sad household. She resolved that she would do her best for this lost soul._

_"That's all right, poppet, I may not know any ... er sweeps, but I'm sure I can find my way to your doctor."_

_"My name is Anthony Daniel DiNozzo, not poppet," said Tony anxiously._

_"'Poppet' is an English word for something small and sweet", said Mary, wondering what on earth had made her use the endearment her mother had always used._

_"Do you think I'm small and sweet?" asked Tony in a tone of disbelief._

_"Well," said Mary briskly, "you're certainly small. We'll have to work on that. Come on, why don't you show me your bedroom." They walked hand in hand out of the room – the beginning of a great friendship._


	2. Restless

Dear Mary

Thanks for the Get Well card – wonder how many of those you've sent me over the years! The headache's mostly gone now but I still feel a bit fuzzy. Still, I must be looking a bit better 'cos the Boss head slapped me the other day – sorry, I know you don't approve of them. On the other hand, perhaps I still look under the weather because Ziva and McGee have been nice to me, they both bought me a present to cheer me up so that was good. They each got me tickets for female mud wrestling – not sure if that's so good. I've still got them – want to come with me when you're next in DC? Didn't think so.

Mary, did I ever tell you about Stinky John? How I strung him up the school flagpole by his underwear? I've told loads of people about it over the years – I know Senior knew the story and he thought it was hilarious. Well, the case we just finished started just before the victim's Homecoming parade and it made me think about the one when I played that trick on Stinky John. Perhaps it's the concussion but somehow it didn't seem so funny this time and it played on my mind a bit. You know me, always been a bit too keen on the practical jokes but I don't usually want to hurt people. I  _think_ I only play them on people who are bit too full of themselves, a bit too overconfident. I still can't believe I managed to catch McGee out with the superglue on his keyboard that many times! As a NCIS Special Agent he should be aware of his environment at all times – you think he'd have learnt his lesson after the first couple of times ... but NOOO!, again and again I caught him. Haven't done it for a while though.

Anyway, I felt guilty about Stinky John; actually confided in McGee a bit. He didn't seem to think it mattered very much – like he said, we were both kids at the time. Still, I couldn't get it out of my head so I decided to find him and say sorry. Then I remembered that his surname is Smith – John Smith, well that's almost impossible. Fortunately I have a super techno sleuth on my team and McGeek rose to the challenge and found him in about six nano seconds. I realise I don't actually know how long a nano second is but I'm pretty sure it's short.

So I found a greetings card – not as nice as the ones you send me – and wrote an apology and went off to find John (I'm trying not to think of him as Stinky anymore). He seems a nice guy, he recognised me almost at once but he seemed a bit gobsmacked when I said 'sorry'. Turns out that I didn't do the stringing up; I was the stringee – he wound  _me_  up the flagpole and left me there. Mary, now that he told me, I sort of vaguely remember dangling there hoping someone would rescue me but I can't remember when I started telling the story the other way round ... or why I did. I told Gibbs about it – he did his usual surprisingly helpful grunting about it. He said I didn't need to tell McGee about it but I will. Perhaps that bang on my head knocked something loose but it doesn't seem right to carry on telling a lie about it. I may not always tell people everything but I try not to tell outright lies. I go in for lies of omission rather than commission. Besides, McGee and I need to be able to trust one another in the field and it wouldn't feel right to have misled him over something.

Sorry to unload all this on you but I guess you've got used to it after all these years. Let me know if you want to go to the mud wrestling.

Kate's not talking to me at the moment because I changed her fish food to a brand she doesn't like – that means I can't send you her love. So you get a double helping of mine instead.

Ciao. Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary took her glasses off as she finished reading the letter and tried to think back to Tony's days at boarding school. She'd always known that the Paddingtons intended to pay for Tony to be sent away to school when he was eleven and that turned out to fit neatly with Senior's plans. He'd put a good face on everything but she suspected that it was becoming a struggle to keep the Long Island home going. Tony going away to school would mean that he could rent the house out and go on his travels trying to find the perfect scheme to make money. Unsurprisingly he didn't give much thought to what would happen to Tony in the holidays but, in his eyes, money could fix most problems and if that failed, he would exercise his considerable charm instead.

Tony had also always known that he would be going away to school but at eight years old, three years is a lifetime away and he hadn't seemed to worry about it too much. As Mary got to know her young charge better she realised that, as open and friendly as he seemed to be, Tony still kept things hidden. She had no doubt that Tony loved and trusted her but the death of his mother had taught him that even people who loved him could disappear and that it was best not to rely on them too much. The staff at the Long Island house were fond of the owner's son but Tony knew that they could find other jobs and move on. His English family were kind but geographically distant and his father was, to put it kindly, too distracted and busy to pay attention to the ramblings of an eight year old. Mary knew that Tony had no reason to think that she wouldn't leave him and, as the 'boarding school' time loomed, she wondered what to do about that.

Tony's early schooling was at a prestigious Long Island establishment which was intellectually demanding. Tony was bright and was usually in the top quarter of the class and got good grades but he was unlikely ever to be top. Then, in the year before he was due to go away to school, he suddenly seemed to get control of his body, he finally seemed to grasp how his feet and legs worked and he began to acquire grace in his movements. He discovered that he could run faster than the other children, could throw the ball further and jump higher: in short, he discovered sports and excelled at them. For the first time he was the best at something and a new joy entered his being. Mary began to think that boarding school would be good for Tony – the one picked out for him had an outstanding academic reputation and also had excellent sporting facilities and programs. Tony seemed excited too.

In the summer before he was due to go, however, Mary began to notice a change. Tony became a bit listless and lethargic and, uncharacteristically, a bit clingy with her. He didn't say anything, however, but carried on with his usual stoicism. Tony seemed to have developed a fine sense of when it was worth arguing about something and when it was best to accept that things had to be as they were. Then, one day, Tony went missing. At first Mary wasn't too worried – Tony was an active child and she didn't keep him tied to her apron strings. After a couple of hours, and a missed milk and cookies snack, she got the household staff to start looking for him. They couldn't find him and Mary was about to think of calling the police in case he had been kidnapped by people misguided enough to think Senior had enough money to pay a ransom.  Then she remembered an old story Simpson the butler had told her. It seemed that shortly before Tony's mom died, he had climbed to the top of a tree near to the house and refused to come down. An idea entered Mary's head.

She went up to Tony's bedroom, opened the window and looked out into the tree that stood nearby. There she saw Tony huddled on one of the branches.

"Tony, what are you doing out there? You missed your snack time."

Tony turned his head away and wouldn't look at her.

"Tony, what's the matter? You know you can tell me."

Tony shook his head and then rubbed his eyes against his shoulder.

"Oh, poppet, won't you come in?" Tony rarely cried and it hurt her to see him crying and feeling that he had to hide his tears. Mary didn't often call him 'poppet' and it made Tony look at her a bit more hopefully but he still shook his head.

"I think I'll stay here," he said solemnly.

Mary pretended to consider this.

"It will be difficult for Simpson to bring your tea out there and Cook has made peanut butter cookies for you – she'll be disappointed if you don't eat them". This seemed to strike a chord with Tony and his tummy made a well-timed rumble as testimony to the missed snack. He was obviously tempted but still said,

"That's all right, I like it out here."

"But you won't be able to practise basketball out there."

"OK," said Tony, as the temptations of basketball and cookies outweighed his eleven year old sorrows for the moment. He clambered along the branch and dropped into his bedroom and looked a bit defiantly at his nanny as he waited to see what she would do. Mary took him by surprise as she said, seemingly casually,

"I've got a new job to go to, Tony."

Tony stiffened and, for a moment, he looked horrified but then he blinked and composed his face into bland indifference.

"I'm going to be working as a school nurse in a town in Rhode Island."

Tony began to look a bit more interested.

"It turns out not to be too far from your new school. I thought, if you wanted to, that you could come and visit me sometimes at weekends and some of the holidays. Would you like that?"

Tony wasn't normally a very demonstrative boy so his sudden fierce hug of Mary told her everything she needed to know about his approval of the scheme. And so it turned out. Mary worked nearby to Tony's boarding school and, because she also worked at a school, she had weekends and school holidays available to be with Tony if he needed her.

Now, after reading Tony's letter about Stinky John, she thought back to what had happened at that Homecoming Day.

Tony had been a bit subdued when she arrived at the school – on the whole, he had settled in well, was academically successful and beginning to shine on the sports field. He was still a bit small for his age and had been picked on a bit but the school was meant to be keeping an eye on that and Mary wasn't unduly worried.

"Hi, Mary," he greeted her, "there's tea in the dining room if you want it."

"Why don't we go for a walk first," she suggested, to give him a chance to tell her if there was anything on his mind.

"Senior's supposed to be coming soon," said Tony.

Mary was surprised to hear this and wondered if it accounted for Tony's quietness. They walked around the school grounds for a while but Tony didn't seem to want to confide in her. When they returned they saw Senior standing near the entrance working his charm on the attractive mother of one of Tony's fellow pupils. He broke off as Tony ran towards him shouting,

"Daddy, Daddy!'.

Senior chuckled embarrassedly and held out his hand for Tony to shake, thus fending off a hug.

"Junior, no need to run. Why, Miss Elm, isn't it?"

"Poplar," said Mary a little frostily. "I work nearby and come to see Tony sometimes."

"That's ... er … nice," said Senior. "Now, Junior, what have you been getting up to? Mrs Dalrymple here was telling me the story of one of the young boys being strung up the flag pole by his underwear." And he laughed uncontrollably, "I'd have loved to see that, someone must be a great practical joker. I'm going in to have a cup of tea – or something stronger," and he turned to go into the school seemingly unaware of the disapproving looks of Mrs Dalrymple and Mary and of the stricken face of Tony.

Mary had always wondered why Tony had looked so upset but, now reading Tony's letter, a piece of the puzzle fell into place. Tony, who, at that stage at least, had still adored his father and wanted to please him had learned that stringing a child up on a flagpole was something to be proud of – no wonder he had flipped it in his head. She put the letter back into its envelope and sighed for the wounded child who still lived inside her Tony.

 


	3. Rekindled

Dear Mary

Thank you for the box of peanut butter cookies – I'm really glad you got the recipe from our old cook. I thought about taking them into work but McGee is so addicted to nutter butters that he would have wolfed the lot down and it wouldn't have been good for him!

I had a blast from the past over the last few days – almost literally. Do you remember Jason King – the boy from the fire in Baltimore? Well, we got called to a fire in a warehouse in Baltimore and there he was, all grown up and working as a detective for Baltimore PD. I don't know that I expected him to fall on my neck or go down on his knees in gratitude but he ... was distinctly cool. Threw me really and I tried to angle for NCIS to walk away from the investigation. That didn't work – of course – Gibbs's spidey senses went off and the next thing I knew Jason was working in Abby's lab and charming the lab coat off her (metaphorically, of course)  _and_ Gibbs put us together as much as possible.

It turned out that Jason's been blaming me all these years for not rescuing his sister as well – I guess he was blaming himself as well for not looking after her better. If he'd been a bit younger I suppose he might not have remembered so much about it – sometimes I wish I could forget some of the memories I've got from being eight or nine. Still, on the plus side he managed to get over his anger to rescue yours truly from going up in flames on a ship (although to be fair, he also saved himself at the same time). I'm willing to be grateful to him anyway.

I can't really tell you much about the case – we opened up a whole new can of worms (or three) and we'll be on the alert for weeks to come. Good news is that, thanks to Gibbs – again – Jason and I had a heart to heart in the elevator. Strong, silent man stuff you understand but I let him know that I'd agonised, and still do, over not getting his sister out and that rescuing him changed my life. I think, in a funny way, meeting him and seeing what a 'fine, young man' he's grown up to be helped me. I'd always fixated on losing the little girl and forgot that something good came out of that night. He still couldn't bring himself to say 'thank you' though, that was a step too far and I think I understand that better now.

Ziva and McGee guessed that Jason and I had some history and did a bit of digging to find out what – well, I've told you before what a hound dog McGee is and it wasn't difficult to find. I'm not sure they understood why I hadn't 'boasted' about it and, to be fair, how could they without knowing about the lost girl?

Gratitude's a funny thing, isn't it? Jason wasn't really grateful, or at least he couldn't express it if he was but I've noticed that it's not a very long lasting emotion. I know sometimes I've felt really grateful to someone and then felt guilty the next day for getting irritated with them for something they've done. But, Mary, I hope you know that I've always been grateful to you for what you did for me – it went far beyond the call of being a nanny. I learned something this week about gratitude and I think it's important to say 'thank you' – so if I haven't said it to you before, I say it now – thank you, for everything. Although I do think I'm indirectly responsible for you meeting Carl so you can return the favour and say thank you to me if you want!

Kate's distracted by a new mirror I bought her and is too busy admiring herself to send you her love so, again, a double portion from me.

Ciao

Tony.

NCISNCIS

Mary blinked a couple of times as she reached the end of the letter. She remembered that night in Baltimore very well and had never been sure how well she had handled it.

There had never really been any doubt that Tony was going to do something to do with sports at University. Senior had half-heartedly tried to persuade him to do business studies or law but he was distracted at the time with a divorce from one wife and the courting of a new one so, true to form, left the details to Tony and the Paddingtons. On the whole, Tony's British relatives had been pleased with his performance at boarding school but were a bit bemused to find that they had a potential basketball or American Football star among their number. The Paddington blue(ish) blood was going to unprecedented places. Great Uncle Clive, like Senior, might have preferred Tony to get a 'useful' degree that he 'understood' but during the summer Tony stayed with him, he had come to know him better and see his potential. Clive was a wise man and he decided that Tony should follow his heart and be happy – and it didn't hurt when Tony won a couple of scholarships which would help with the bills. He jokingly made Tony sign a couple of IOUs for the help he was being given but that was because he wanted Tony to appreciate the value of money and not take it for granted. He didn't intend ever to ask for the money back.

Things had changed for Mary while living in working in Rhode Island. She didn't spend all her time working and looking out for Tony but got involved with the community activities of the school she worked at. So it was that she met Carl Forrest at a cake sale. Carl taught English at the school and he was immediately attracted to the British woman who baked a mean peanut cookie. They became engaged after six months and then got married in the Christmas vacation. Tony, bursting with pride, gave Mary away and joked that the poplar had joined the forest and he now 'couldn't see the tree for the wood'. It had been a happy marriage and Mary was very content.

When Tony announced that he was going to Ohio to study Phys-Ed (and play a lot of sport), Mary felt a sense of loss that she would no longer be able to keep a close eye on Tony but she realised that parents went through the same thing when their children went off to college. She reckoned without Carl who was fond of Tony, and even fonder of Mary, and who quietly went about finding a new job in Ohio so that his wife could stay close.

Despite Carl and Tony's best efforts, Mary never really got the hang of the American sports Tony loved. She sort of understood basketball, got confused with baseball because it looked a bit like the English rounders she had played in local parks in her childhood and was completely baffled by American Football. None of that prevented her from going to lots of Tony's games and cheering enthusiastically at what she hoped were the appropriate moments.

So when OSU got through to the Final Fours in Baltimore, and after Tony and Carl had made her realise what 'a big deal' that was, she agreed to make the trip to see him play. Tony was buzzing with excitement and couldn't wait for the game.

It was a shock, therefore, when, in the early hours of the morning before the game, Mary was awoken by a loud knocking on her hotel room door. With a sense of dread washing over her, Mary went to the door, looked through the spy hole and saw a very different Tony. She opened the door and pulled him in. She saw immediately that he smelled of smoke, had dirt all over him, a burn on one hand and was shaking.

"Tony, what's happened? Come in, sit down, I'll get you some water."

Tony sat down briefly but then got up again and paced around her small hotel room in agitation.

"Mary, I just lost someone."

Mary wondered briefly if one of his friends had died or perhaps one of the Paddingtons but before she could ask, Tony continued.

"A little girl ... I couldn't get to her. I think she died. Oh, Mary, what did I do?"

"Tony," said Mary in her calmest voice, "come and sit down and tell me what happened. Start from the beginning." Tony, with a clear effort, sat down beside her.

"I'd gone out for a walk, trying to clear my head, you know, calm down before the game. Everyone's so wired, it's really hard. Anyway, I was just walking along when I saw smoke coming out of an apartment block and ... and, then I heard a boy calling out."

Mary grimaced. Tony's hearing was the sharpest she had ever known. Their visit to the paediatrician all those years ago had shown that he had 'glue ear' but, partly at least to her good care, that had all been resolved and his hearing returned to being better than normal. Now, just for a moment, Mary found herself almost regretting his sharp hearing which seemed to have led him into danger.

"Nobody else was doing anything so I ran in," continued Tony, "but I couldn't get to the little girl. I had to leave her behind. Mary, I tried, really I tried."

"I know you did, Tony. So was it the little girl you heard crying from the street?"

"No, it was her brother. I didn't hear  _her_  until I was in the apartment."

"And did he get out by himself then?" asked Mary in puzzlement.

"No, I got him out of the closet he was hiding in and carried him out. But just as we were leaving he remembered about his sister and we heard her crying. I started to go get her but the flames were too hot. If I'd carried on I'd have lost the boy as well, I had to go. Mary, he cried all the way out."

"Tony DiNozzo," said Mary firmly, "do you mean to tell me that you ran into a burning building and rescued a little boy and somehow you think that's a bad thing?"

"But I lost the girl," reasoned Tony.

"Tony, you did the right thing. If you hadn't gone into that building  _two_  young lives would have been lost. Thanks to you, one life was saved. You did what you had to. I'm proud of you."

Tony looked uncertain for a moment and then his face changed as he did that thing which Mary had seen him do before. He seemed to accept the inevitability of what had happened and decide to bear it with a stoicism which should have been beyond someone of his years.

"Now," said Mary, returning to practicalities, "Does Coach know where you are?" At Tony's shake of the head, Mary made an exasperated sound and turned to the phone to call the team's hotel and let them know where one of their star players was. When she hung up the phone and turned round she saw that Tony had fallen asleep sprawled across her bed. She smiled. She managed to shift him around a bit, reflecting that it had been easier when he was eight years old and slightly smaller than six foot two. When she had him straightened out, she sat at the top of the bed and placed his head in her lap, gently smoothing his hair all night until he woke in the morning.

In later years she sometimes wondered if it was too fanciful to think that he had gone to Baltimore as a boy and come back as a man.

 


	4. Minimum Security

Dear Mary

Sorry I missed writing last week but just didn't have a chance. We were on a case at Guantanamo Bay, would you believe! Gibbs is pretty much always in our faces anyway but it's even worse when we're out of the country with him – definitely no time to sit and write a proper letter but a postcard might eventually make its way to you. I mailed one just before we left.

You'll have guessed that I won't be able to tell you about the case – I hope you don't think my letters have got duller since I became a Very Special Agent! I never realised how secret it was all going to be.

I  _can_  tell you that we flew down there in a Lear Jet – haven't been in one of those since Senior got lucky the year I was thirteen. I can also tell you that I met a rather lovely lady – Paula, she's also a NCIS agent. We danced well together (yes, it was  _work_!) and, despite a few hiccups, got on all right. Don't know how much I'll see of her though as she doesn't know where she's going to be based. One thing you'd approve of – she has beautiful handwriting, much better than my scrawl.

And the other thing I can tell you – which will make you laugh. I met my nemesis; that's right an iguana snuck into my bedroom. It's possible I overreacted – let out a girly shriek which had Kate and Gibbs rushing in to my defence. It's possible also that I really should wear those pyjamas you bought me – let's just say that Kate knows me a bit better now than she did. Still, good to know they have my six.

All my love

Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary smiled as she put the letter back into its envelope. She well remembered the first time Tony had encountered an iguana!

Tony had just finished his first full month as a police officer in Peoria and, on his first weekend off, had come to visit Mary and Carl. Tony had burst into the kitchen, hugged her and handed her a brown envelope. Mary opened and pulled out a photo of about twenty earnest looking young police officers standing in three rows. She peered at it trying to pick out Tony. Tony looked over her shoulder and also studied the picture. Finally he put his finger on one blurred face,

"I think that's me – but it's difficult to tell the way we've all got our caps pulled down over our eyes! Oh, thanks," the thank you was for a big mug of hot chocolate accompanied by a plate of Mary's famous peanut cookies. Through a mouthful of crumbs, Tony continued, "Thanks for coming for the passing out – it was good to have a friendly face there. I know we didn't really expect Senior to turn up – but we sort of did him an injustice. He arrived the next day! Said he got the date wrong and tried to insinuate it was all my fault. I didn't argue too much because he had a new fiancée with him and, well, no need to show him up. What number do you think this is, Mary? I think it's probably fiancée number 6 and wife number 3 - if she lasts long enough to get him to the altar. From what he told me (in one of his loud whispers when she'd gone to powder her nose) she's the widow of a Texan oil man and inherited ' _millions, Junior_ ' a couple of years ago. Actually, she seemed quite nice but I might be a bit biased because she's the first girlfriend he's had who's more than twenty years older than me! I think it must have been her who persuaded Senior to turn up at all."

Carl looked on with fascination as Tony continued to demolish the cookies: Mary was used to his appetite but it continued to amaze Carl how Tony could eat with such determination. He used to ask him if he had locust blood.

"How's it going, Tony?" he asked.

Tony swallowed, wiped his mouth free of crumbs, looked mournfully at the empty plate and then said,

"Good I'm teamed up with Sergeant Vincent Price, he's quite old, in his late thirties, not much of a sense of humour – at least not about his name! He says he's never been to a horror movie; just glared at me when I suggested that perhaps his mom had been a fan! We get on OK though, he's a big sports fan, especially wrestling. He's going to show me some moves".

"And what the other officers like?" asked Mary.

"They're good. So far I've had salt in my coffee three times, had my desk saran wrapped, sugar on my eggs twice oh, and glue in the soap in the shower once. It seems tame after boarding school but I think it means they like me. Sarge says that police academy is OK as far as it goes but the real learning comes when you go out in the patrol car".

"What sort of things have you been doing?" asked Carl.

"So far it's been pretty routine. I've learned how to break into locked cars (only when the owners have locked themselves out ... although there was one man who'd killed himself in his car), I set up a road block and given out loads of speeding tickets". He paused to take a gulp of chocolate and then, with a mixture of pride and embarrassment on his face, continued nonchalantly,

"Oh, and I put my tree climbing skills to good use! Sarge and I got called to a house in Peoria Heights – dispatch said there was a report of an animal stuck in a tree. Sarge said it would usually be a case for the Fire Department but as "I'd told him how good I was at climbing trees, he figured he'd give the fire-crew a break". I thought something was up, another bit of hazing but figured it would be best to go along with it. Two other cars 'happened' to arrive just as I was about to shimmy up the tree so that confirmed it. So I was standing at the bottom of the tree and had just worked out the best way to go up when Sarge tapped me on the shoulder".

"Kid, don't you want to know what sort of animal you're looking for?" Mary wondered if 'Sarge' really spoke like Sean Connery but refrained from asking.

"I probably went a bit red – first rule of Police Academy is 'assess the situation before committing' and I'd blown it! I asked him what I was looking for and he stroked his chin seeming to think about it and then called over to the householder who was trying to keep a straight face".

"Mr Doolittle, what sort of animal did you say had escaped?"

"Now I knew this was all a put up job!  'Mr Doolittle' told us that he was missing one iguana, named Cyril. I guess I should be grateful it wasn't a chameleon! Anyway, I pressed my cap on a bit tighter, handed my weapon to Sarge (didn't want to catch it on a branch and shoot myself in the foot, or somewhere else) and climbed up. Did you know that iguanas are a bit tree coloured? It took me a while to find this one – I'd almost given up looking when I found myself staring into this beady eye! Really made me jump - I nearly fell out of the tree. I could hear the others laughing below".

"Go on," said Carl,” as Tony paused for dramatic effect or perhaps just to lick a crumb off the plate.

"I was just trying to work out how to grab hold of the thing when I saw something else out of the corner of my eye. The tree was pretty tall and I could see over into the yard that backed on to Mr Doolittle's house. There were a couple of guys breaking the window of the back door and going in through the back of house. I heard Sarge calling me from underneath",

"Hey, DiNozzo, have you got stuck up there? Need me to call the fire service?"

"So I sort of lowered myself down so I was hanging by my knees and beckoned him over and said, "Sarge, there's someone breaking in the house behind this one!"

"You sure, kid?" he said.

"So I told him what I'd seen and he told a couple of the others to go round quietly to the road behind. He sent me back up the tree and told me to give him a running commentary on my radio about what I could see. It was good – they caught the burglars red handed and it turned out that they'd done five other robberies in Peoria over the last few weeks. The Captain was pleased, Sarge slapped me on the back and called me Tony for the first time – still put sugar on my eggs the next day though".

"I've asked around a bit and I was right, 'Mr Doolittle' (whose real name is Dobbs) gets roped in every year to play this trick on us rookies. There's a pool on what might happen – broken legs, animal bites, getting stuck in the tree, you know the sort of thing. If the rookie comes down unscathed, his partner wins the pool – they've never caught any criminals before though! I tried to persuade Sarge to give me a share of his winnings but he just laughed".

Tony smiled in obvious contentment. Mary had a question,

"What happened to Cecil?"

"Cyril. He got bored and went back into the house on his own. I never want to see another iguana up that close again!"

"Go and wash up," said Mary, "we'll be eating soon." Tony bounded up the stairs to the guest room.

As Mary prepared the meal she reflected on the last few months and on what Tony had just told her. Mary didn't quite understand the idea of hazing as a rite of passage but it seemed that Tony did and also that he thought it was important as a way of bonding with co-workers.

Tony's hopes of a glittering sporting career had been mostly broken at the same time that his leg was fractured in a match with Michigan but Mary wondered, after the rescue of the boy in Baltimore, whether Tony would have had a change of heart anyway. Some people were surprised that he chose to go into the police instead of trying to find another type of career in sports but Mary wasn't. She was surprised, however, that he decided to go to Peoria rather than staying in Ohio where he had been so happy. Carl suggested that perhaps it was  _because_ he'd been so happy there that he didn't want to risk things going wrong there and spoiling the memories. Tony had simply said, pragmatically, that Peoria had been the first department that agreed to consider someone still recovering from a broken leg whose return to fitness was not guaranteed. It seemed to be one of those things which Tony felt the need to keep hidden so she didn't probe too much.

Senior hadn't the news that he was about to have a police officer son well and came close to a stand up fight with Tony. This was unusual: not for Senior to want to argue about something but that Tony rose to the challenge and argued back. Tony didn't usually bother to quarrel with his father: if the matter was trivial he would give way but if he thought it was important enough he'd just get on and do it anyway and not waste his energy on a dispute. The fact that Tony cared enough about this to stand his ground showed Mary how important this was to him. Senior threatened to 'cut Junior off' but this had less impact than he might have hoped as his son had few illusions about any of Senior's money coming his way anyway. His Paddington relatives had come to terms with the idea that they wouldn't be hanging a picture of a basketball player or American football player in their ancestral halls and rather approved of the idea of Tony becoming a policeman –  _they_ understood the idea of public service.

So Tony had gone into the Police Academy and done well, graduating towards the top of his class. He had proved to be a good shot – something about which Mary had mixed feelings, she didn't really like the idea of Tony shooting anyone and, even less, the idea of someone shooting  _him_. Things were changing for Tony but, surely, Mary had thought, he would be in Peoria for a good long time and steadily work his way up the ladder ... her need to worry about him would soon be over but she might grow tired of the words, "Sarge says ..."

 


	5. Boxed In

Dear Mary

Sorry this isn't the usual hand scrawled letter – I had to do it on my lap top and print it out. I got shot (according to me, anyway) in the right arm so writing's a bit tricky at the moment. No need to worry, it's not bad and it managed to miss the Philly scar so it'll heal fine.

It was an 'interesting' day. Ziva and I were sent to do surveillance down in the docks and had to take cover in a container when the bad guys started shooting at us. Then they locked us in – Ziva said I should have thought about that before we dived for shelter in a hail of bullets and maybe she's right but I still haven't figured out what the alternative was. Sorry, I don't mean to worry you – guess I'm a bit frazzled from spending the day in a freezing cold tin box with a narked* ninja.

Don't get me wrong, you know that in some ways I like her and, if we didn't work together I might have made a move but Gibbs – all seeing, all knowing Gibbs – would know and he'd ram rule 12 down our throats. And actually, in this case, I think he'd be right – it takes enough of my energy to deal with her, well, let's call them 'eccentricities', when she's just a co-worker, and subordinate (ha ha) but if she was my partner in another sense too, I think my head would explode.

In other circumstances today (that is without the constant threat of being killed) would have been a good chance to get to know her, find out what's beneath that rather lovely exterior but I think all I learned was that she might be a bit claustrophobic and, oh, she plays piano – no doubt perfectly as she does everything else. It made me think of my piano lessons – do you remember Madame Oliviére? She certainly taught me good posture at the keyboard but I'll never forget your face when you saw the bruises on my knuckles – you were like an avenging angel! Mr Clarkson was much more mellow, even if he did prefer teaching me jazz to Bach!

You might have been a bit proud of me today – I did a bit of MacGyvering with a cell phone, found a secret compartment and worked out that the millions of dollars we were locked in with were fake. My fellow prisoner refused, on principle I think, to be impressed. I don't know what Gibbs will say to her when he finds out that it was _me_ who took out the shooter who forced us into the container and _she_ managed to miss. Although, to be fair, she pulled off a pretty spectacular shot at the end.

But, Mary, I don't think any of that would matter – it's the day to day sort of to and fro, back and forth that I'm used to. What really mattered was finding out that she'd had a team get together the night before and invited everyone except yours truly. Admittedly I was out that night myself but I hadn't told anyone and I'd have cancelled if she'd invited me – I _never_ turn down an invitation to a team do, not even when it's to one of McGeek's poetry readings or Abby's latest band fad. And _Gibbs,_ who's allergic to social intercourse, went as well. Let's just say, I wish Ducky's pain killers worked as well on the soul as they do on the body.

Sorry – I've rambled. Put it down to delayed cabin fever and the usual pain killer loopydom.

I think Kate still loves me, anyway. She was glad to see me when I got home and she sends her fishy love. I send mine too (unfishy, of course) – don't worry, I'll be fine and the next letter will be the usual scrawl.

Tony

PS – we caught the bad guys. And what's _really_ important is that I knew the rest of the team wouldn't stop until they found us ... and Abby was pleased to see me when we got back.

NCISNCIS

Mary frowned as she reached the end of the letter. It was unlike Tony to bare his soul so much and she suspected that the painkillers and stress of the day had played their part. It was when she heard about how dangerous his job could be that she sometimes wished that he'd used his phys ed degree to be a gym teacher. Although, knowing Tony, he'd have attracted trouble doing that.

She thought her heart had probably missed a beat when Tony said he'd been shot – she never got used to hearing about his injuries. She remembered the first time he'd been shot, shortly after he'd moved to Philadelphia. In some ways it hadn't been a big deal although the bullet had broken his arm as well as leaving a hole but she'd been surprised to find how _angry_ she'd been as well as upset. She wanted to go and find the person who had hurt her Tony and ... well, she hadn't known what she'd do. And after finding the person who'd shot him she'd go and give the police chief in Peoria a piece of her mind too. It was her fault Tony was in Philadelphia in the first place.

Tony hadn't really wanted to leave Peoria – his two years there had been good and he had come through relatively unscathed. Then the police chief had decided that she needed to cut the force and looked around to see who could go. She had decided that the 'last in' should be the 'first out' especially if they weren't from Peoria. Some wanted to go so that made her life easier but then it seemed to come down to a choice between two – Tony and Officer Sam Dawkins. Sam was about the same age as Tony but was married with a six month old daughter; he was distraught at the thought of losing his job and Tony volunteered to go.

It had worked out well, really. Tony was given a good recommendation and found a job fairly easily in Philadelphia. Carl and Mary had moved to Baltimore the year before when Carl got a new job as head of English at a school there. Tony moving to Philadelphia meant they were nearer one another. Tony got a small pay off which he used, somewhat to Mary's disapproval, towards buying a Mustang car which was his pride and joy.

Tony got a couple of weeks' sick leave when he was shot in Philadelphia and went to recuperate at Mary and Carl's – it gave Carl a chance to marvel once more at Tony's undiminished appetite and it gave Mary a chance to reassure herself that Tony wasn't hiding anything from her. It was summer vacation time so they all had time to be together. Mary took Tony out for a drive in his Mustang – just once. Tony was usually pretty laid back with Mary but his self-restraint took a battering when his 'baby' was in someone else's hands. Mary also suspected that it didn't really do his image much good to be driven around by someone old enough to be his mother! They didn't discuss it but, by mutual consent, Mary stayed away from Tony's car after that.

It should have been a pleasant two weeks but then Tony got a phone call from his old sergeant, Vince Price, from Peoria. Sam Dawkins had been partnered with Vince after Tony left. Vince told Tony that they had been called to a robbery in progress at a drug store and Sam had been shot. He'd been rushed to the hospital but had died shortly afterwards.

Mary watched Tony take the call. At first he had looked delighted to be getting a phone call from 'Sarge' but then his face had lost all colour when he heard what Vince had to tell him. He'd put the phone down and sat down abruptly.

"Tony, what's wrong?" asked Mary

"Sam Dawkins has been shot."

"Is he going to be all right?" said Mary.

"Not really. He's dead."

Mary didn't know what to say. She went over to Tony and put her arms round him. He didn't move. They stayed like that for some time and then Tony said,

"It's my fault."

"How is it your fault?" asked a puzzled Mary.

"Perhaps it's not my fault – but it should have been me." Mary's heart lurched in an odd way. She had been proud when Tony had volunteered to leave Peoria – she suspected that the police chief would have chosen Tony to stay rather than Sam if it had come to that. Tony had earned two commendations and done well during his time with the force while Sam had attracted less attention. Now she realised that if Tony had stayed in Peoria it might have been him who had been killed and, for a moment, she rejoiced. Then she felt ashamed – a young wife was mourning the loss of a husband and a baby girl would grow up without a father. Still, she couldn't help but be glad that her Tony was sitting safe within her arms. It gave her a glimpse, however, of what Tony was going through. Relieved to be safe but racked with guilt for being so.

"Oh, Tony, oh, my poppet, you did a good thing and Sam was grateful. You know he was – just hold on to that". She rested her cheek on the top of his head and they stayed there for a while trying to give each other comfort. Mary found herself thinking why it was that she found herself comforting Tony so often: with most people she was bracing and brisk but rarely with Tony. She thought it was probably that Tony was hard enough on himself already and didn't need someone encouraging him in that way of thinking.

Finally, Tony moved out of Mary's arms and stood up.

"Do you think Carl would drive me to Peoria? Or I could take the train – I need to go to the funeral."

"Of course, he will." Mary didn't try to persuade Tony not to go – she realised that he saw it as his duty and would not be dissuaded. It would be the first time he had been to the funeral of a co-worker killed in the line of duty. She hoped it would be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Narked is used in the UK to mean 'annoyed' – not sure if it is used in the US.


	6. High Seas

Dear Mary

Still getting used to being on dry land after a few days on the USS Enterprise (the US Navy ship not the spaceship (!) I always like going on board ships but I wouldn't want to stay longer than a few days – I hope I never get posted as Agent Afloat, I'd go mad.

The other 'excitement' was meeting my predecessor Stan Burley. To hear Ducky and Abby talk you'd think he was a cross between a male model, top sports star (all sports, naturally), agent of the year and general saint. To be fair, anyone who manages to stay on Gibbs' team for five years must be something special. Scuttlebutt says that Burley asked for a transfer in the end because he was getting stomach ulcers from Gibbs' glare turning his stomach sour. That will never happen to me ... I'm more likely to have brain damage from all those head slaps. I know you don't really approve but I'm clinging to the idea that they're a sign of affection.

If it wasn't for the fact that I  _know_  Stan asked to leave Gibbs' team I'd have thought that he was angling to get back on it. There was a distinct 'needle' in the air but Gibbs does have that effect on us – we all jostle for position when he's in the room. Still, I think Stan went a bit overboard (sorry!) with it and Kate backed me up some of the time. She was a bit dazzled by the Burley aura especially when she found out he'd been a senator's aide before being lured into Gibbs' pool. She enjoyed getting one of her pointy little jabs in when getting me to do a brief resumé of my job history. Thankfully she was too wrapped up in  _bello_  Burley to probe into why I left the other places. Like I told her, lots of extenuating circumstances but it did make me wonder if it'll soon be time to move on again but I'd like to think my sell by date is more than two years.

Still not sure what Gibbs was up to on this trip – you'd have thought that Stan was, if not a long lost son at least a favourite nephew. Patted him on the cheek, shook his hand, bought him food ... SMILED. Definitely odd. I kinda hoped it was just absence making the heart grow fonder and, if that's the case, I'm going to take three years' leave at once and disappear for a couple of months. And then, just as we were leaving Stan cracked and admitted that Gibbs hadn't called him by name for months and when he did, he got it wrong. He said Gibbs must really like me as he calls me by name and the right one too!

There are times when I understand why Burley had to get off Gibbs' team – I wouldn't go to the extremes of being Agent Afloat but sometimes an Arctic weather station seems an attractive option. Gibbs has the social skills of a porcupine and the emotional range of a lobster ... but he came when Stan called and I guess that's the important thing. There's no window dressing with Gibbs – what you see is what you get and sometimes what you get doesn't seem very much. He's a devious so and so – I can't help wondering if he set Stan up to tell that story just because he's incapable of admitting to liking anyone. Like I say, the emotional range of a lobster but perhaps he's worth cracking open a bit. Maybe I won't dust off the CV yet or apply to that weather station after all.

Love

Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary had a thoughtful look on her face as she finished reading the letter. She had felt a pang when she read about Tony's 'extenuating' reasons for leaving Philadelphia.

The week before it had happened everything had seemed to be going well for Tony. He had been in Philly for about eighteen months and the previous weekly letter had 'casually' dropped in the news that he had just celebrated a three month anniversary with his girlfriend, a young doctor named Sally, and also that he had passed the exams which could lead to him being promoted to detective.

Three days later the bottom dropped out of Mary's world when Carl was knocked down in a hit and run accident and left with multiple injuries and an uncertain outcome. Tony had come down at once and sat with Mary in the hospital for two days until finally Carl regained consciousness and it seemed that he would get better after all. It was clear, however, that the recovery period would be a long one. Tony sat in on some of the consultations with Carl's doctors but then had to go back to work. Mary wondered how she and Carl would manage during his recovery: neither of them had family nearby and they hadn't lived in Baltimore long enough to make many friends.

Three days later she returned home late at night after visiting Carl in hospital to find Tony's Mustang parked outside. When she went into her house, she found Tony in the kitchen frowning over a cookery book.

"Hi, Mary, how did Cook make it all look so easy? I've just spent half an hour mashing these potatoes and they're still lumpy with grey bits in." He peered discontentedly into the pan. Mary looked in too.

"Tony, did you take the skins off before you mashed them?" She laughed at Tony's bewildered expression.

"Never mind," he said, "we'll just order some pizza instead."

"I wasn't expecting you," said Mary, "I thought you'd used up all your leave."

An odd expression flashed across Tony's face – a mixture of wariness, anxiety and determination.

"I've left Philly. I'm going to stay with you for a while and help when Carl comes out of the hospital. Although it might be better if I don't do the cooking ..." He saw Mary opening her mouth to protest and carried on quickly,

"My captain from Philly is going to put in a good word for me at Baltimore – he thinks I stand a good chance of being taken on. You'll need help when Carl comes home – I can lift him, drive him to the hospital when you're at work. I can put my phys ed degree to good use – all that sports science. I know about bones and muscles and massage and so on."

"Tony, you're about to become a detective. You can't just leave ... and what about Sally?" Tony just shrugged.

"Tony, I can't ask ..." Tony interrupted her,

"Don't say 'I can't ask you to do this' ... you're not asking, I'm just doing it. There's no point in saying anything, it's done and can't be undone". He stared at her defiantly and for a moment or two their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Mary didn't exactly give in but she realised that Tony wanted, and needed, to do this and she realised that she wanted him to do it. She would never have asked him to do it but she was both grateful and proud that he had. She didn't say anything but just nodded, kissed him on the cheek and then said,

"No pizza, my lad. I'm going to teach you how to make proper mashed potato!"

And so it had turned out as Tony planned. Carl had come home a couple of weeks later to his own, not always entirely competent, personal assistant and they had all muddled through together. Tony was determinedly cheerful the whole time and never gave any hint of resentment at the hiccup in his plans. Carl got taken on increasingly long drives as Tony got to know his new city – Carl might not have chosen to go to some of the places his chauffeur took him but Tony obviously felt it important to visit some of the less salubrious areas. 'Research' he called it, 'local colour'.

Carl got to see another side of Tony in the long months of his recovery: a compassionate and patient Tony who was not offended on the days when Carl was grumpy or irritable. It wasn't perfect, of course, and on the days when Tony got things wrong Carl sometimes thought a professional health care aide might have been better ... but, he realised, it wouldn't have been so much fun! And he wouldn't have learned so much about movies...

After six months Carl was well enough that Tony could start work for the Baltimore Police Department and two months after that moved into his own apartment. Mary and Carl were sad to see him go but were pleased that they were all living so close together and reasoned that  _surely_ he'd be able to settle down now...

 


	7. Baltimore

Dear Mary

I know it's not Sunday but I had to write things down so they can stop doing banging like bumper cars in my head.

We got called to Baltimore a couple of days ago for a report for a dead 'navy officer' - except that it wasn't a dead navy officer but Danny. You remember Danny, don't you? My old partner from Baltimore PD, the red head. We thought there was a link to another case we working so we got the case although technically it wasn't really our jurisdiction.

It all seemed a bit surreal. Gibbs was nice to me the whole time, sort of thoughtful and considerate which is always a bit disconcerting ... it's the sort of behaviour he usually reserves for children, animals and the elderly so it always throws me when he directs it at me. To make things even odder, McGee and Ziva decided to be concerned as well and we all laid off the bickering a bit. It was all very civilized. Ducky was openly curious; ever since he got that psychology degree he feels he has an excuse for asking any question he wants to because he's 'building a psychological profile'. I don't mind really but, again, it was odd having it all directed at me. Abby gave me soulful, sympathetic looks and hugged me if I got within touching distance.

There's no need to keep it secret now, and I think you suspected something anyway, but Danny was a dirty cop – he was on the take and that's why I left Baltimore. All these years I wondered if I did the right thing, sort of wished I'd resolved it differently but that chance is gone for good now. Going back to Baltimore, back to the station made me remember how, in some ways, it was a golden time. I was learning all the time, felt appreciated, made some good friends, met Wendy (so perhaps it wasn't all good!), everything was great. But when I found out Danny was crooked I felt as everything was an illusion, that I'd been conned somehow because I thought Danny was a friend. Hell, I'd have asked him to be my best man at the wedding, that's how close we were. I've asked myself ever since, how good a cop could I be if my best friend deceived me like that? It turns out now that it wasn't just Danny who pulled the wool over my eyes – we found out that Major was an even bigger crook and had killed Danny when he thought he was going to expose him.

I don't  _think_  anyone would get away with that with me now – I'm much more suspicious of people. I look back and can't quite believe how trusting I used to be. Trouble is, once you've lost that, it's gone forever. It can sort of taint everything you do – I guess it's an occupational hazard, the price you pay for being a cop.

I sometimes wonder, though,  _if_  Danny hadn't been a rotten apple, whether or not I would have stayed at Baltimore PD. Sure, I was enjoying it, doing well, having the time of my life but once Gibbs came on the scene I suspect it was inevitable that I'd be on my way. Once Gibbs decides he wants something, or someone, he usually gets it. I can't imagine that he would have been very subtle about it – no soft words or flattery. He'd have just told me to pack up and be at the Navy Yard the next week. And I'd probably have done it. Perhaps it's like the Indian cobra trick except that Gibbs mesmerises  _people i_ nto doing what he wants.

I think, too, that I saw a glimpse of something else with Gibbs. I could tell that he was good at his job – no, good's not the right word. The man's an artist – he sees things other people don't and I wanted something of that. I thought I could learn something from him which I couldn't learn staying in Baltimore, staying being a cop. So perhaps all these years I've been blaming Danny for 'making' me leave Baltimore when the Gibbs effect would have sucked me in anyway.

And the last few days have reminded me of something I often forget – that when it comes down to it, I think Gibbs will always have my six. And something else – Gibbs may do odd things (to put it mildly) and he certainly walks to the beat of his own drum but he is absolutely incorruptible. I still find it odd, after living with Senior, to know someone for whom money means nothing - it's kind of reassuring.

Sorry to have rambled, Mary but I don't think you'll mind.

Kate sends her love ... or she would if she wasn't obsessively cleaning the glass wall of her bowl. Who knew she would be so like her human namesake?

Love always,

Tony.

NCISNCIS

Mary had always thought something odd had happened with Danny to make Tony leave Baltimore so unexpectedly and this letter confirmed her suspicions. She had met Danny a few times and liked him well enough – superficially he had been quite like Tony and came from a similar mixed background of privilege and deprivation but something hadn't been quite right. It might just be that, obviously, she knew Tony much better but somehow she hadn't thought there was much 'substance' to Danny, he might be easily led astray.

She had also thought it odd that Tony hadn't kept in touch with his old friend – usually when Tony made a friend, he kept that friend. He was still close to his fraternity brothers, to fellow cops in Peoria and Philadelphia as well as friends from boarding school, former members of the house staff in Long Island, even some old flames were still around but Danny had been dropped and never mentioned again.

Mary and Carl had really thought that Tony was settled in Baltimore – he had certainly done well and had seemed to blossom once he earned his detective's shield. Of course, Mary had been sad when Tony went to Washington but she knew that becoming a federal agent was a good career move and he hadn't moved far away. She realised now that what had really made her sad about the move was that Tony had lost a bit of his sparkle, his wide-eyed optimism had faded a little and he had retreated into himself a bit. Now she could see why he had lost some of his trust in other people.

Mary had begun to think that Tony wouldn't stay more than two years with NCIS although she knew that none of his job moves had been because he was restless. Tony just seemed to attract a lot of 'extenuating circumstances'. She had wondered what his new boss, Special Agent Gibbs would be like. Tony was a fan but she had struggled to work what it was that had made him fall under Gibbs' spell. He didn't seem to talk much (which made him an odd match for the talkative Tony), was something of a loner (again, unlike the usually gregarious Tony) and took his coffee black and strong (unlike the sweet toothed Tony). It had all seemed an unlikely match except ... except ... that Gibbs had seen something in Tony, something good, which he wanted. For that alone, Mary had been prepared to give Gibbs the benefit of the doubt. And of course, Gibbs was a former marine – his watchword would be 'Semper Fi' – he'd never leave Tony behind and for that Mary would forgive him a lot.

 


	8. SWAK

Dear Mary

I hope you will forgive the familiarity of my calling you 'Mary' but Tony insisted that it would be in order as I am acting as his amanuensis. To be perfectly accurate Tony didn't use the word 'amanuensis', he said that as I was writing this letter on his behalf, it would be acceptable for me to call you by his name for you. I don't wish to imply that Tony doesn't know the word 'amanuensis': in my experience Tony has an extensive vocabulary. It is rather that, at the moment, the word is a little too long for him to cope with.

Oh dear, I fear that I have begun this rather awkwardly. I would start again less clumsily but Tony insisted that I use this rather fine writing paper and I don't wish to waste it.

Tony has fallen asleep again so, while I await his awaking, I will tell you the reasons why I am writing this on his behalf. I regret to have to tell you that Tony has been rather unwell for a number of days and is currently a patient in the Bethesda hospital in Washington. I hasten to reassure you, however, that he is on road to recovery and I am hopeful of a full return to health so long as he listens to his doctors' advice.

Dear lady, I realise that I have failed to introduce myself – I fear I am not making a very good job of this. My name is Dr Donald Mallard and I am the Medical Examiner for NCIS – it may be that Anthony has mentioned me to you. I have to say, however, but I suspect you will be neither surprised nor hurt when I tell you that he has never mentioned you to me or, I believe, to any of his co-workers.

Let me return to the reason for this letter. Five days ago, Anthony opened a letter in the squad room at the Navy Yard. That letter dispersed a fine dust, some of which he inhaled. Medical isolation protocols were immediately put in place and Tony, and Special Agent Caitlyn Todd, were taken to Bethesda hospital. In other circumstances, the lengths Jethro and Timothy went to so that they were able to investigate the case might have been amusing. They both donned blue plastic biohazard suits – a co-worker likened them to Teletubbies. I believe that is a children's television programme which originated in the United Kingdom. Possibly you are familiar with it? Perhaps you are not, as I understand from Anthony that you have not lived in the United Kingdom for a number of years; but you may have younger family members in that sceptred isle who have told you about it.

I fear I have wandered from the subject again and you are no doubt anxious to learn about what happened to Anthony. He and Agent Todd underwent extensive tests and received the best possible preventative treatment but, unfortunately, it was discovered that the fine dust contained Y Pestis. Anthony has indicated that you have some medical knowledge so perhaps you don't need me to inform you that Y Pestis is another name for pneumonic plague. Agent Todd was some distance away when the envelope was opened and suffered no ill effects apart from continuing to suffer from a rather nasty cold. I recall that, as a recently qualified doctor some years ago, I was part of a research unit trying to find a cure for the common cold; alas we made little progress in my time there but I have always retained an interest in its pathology.

Dear, dear, it is as well that I have a good supply of this very pleasing note paper. I must ask Anthony where he purchases it. To return to the subject, I fear that Anthony was not as fortunate as Caitlyn and he was infected with the pneumonic plague. You are no doubt aware that there are a number of types of plague: the most commonly known is bubonic plague which is a most unpleasant disease. The other, and even nastier, is pneumonic plague: in the dark days of the middle ages in Europe it was rightly dreaded and the mortality rate was high.

But, Mrs Forrest, I want to reassure you that although Tony was very ill, he, quite remarkably, is going to get better. I don't know if you are aware of the bond between Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and young Anthony but I can assure you that it was demonstrated with great force at a time of crisis in the illness. We were all beginning to fear the worst when Jethro swept in and told Tony he 'would not die' and amazingly (and of course, pleasingly) Anthony obeyed. He remains rather ill and is sleeping a lot but, as I said before, the prognosis is good. He will need some time off work and a gentle period of rehabilitation after he returns to work so that he doesn't suffer a setback. I will be strongly recommending at least four weeks' desk duty before he goes out into the field again.

Our patient just woke up briefly and asked me to apologise on his behalf because he fears he will not be able to visit you as planned this weekend and hear about your visit to the United Kingdom. I hope you will not think us remiss in not letting you know earlier about Anthony's illness. You are named as one of his medical contacts but he had added a temporary annotation to his personnel file to say that you would be out of the country for a number of weeks and so should not be contacted. His other contact is Agent Gibbs who was, of course, already aware of his illness.

Although he has been recovering well, Anthony has, as I mentioned, been sleeping most of the time and today was the first time he became alert enough to realise how much time had passed. It was then that he realised that you would be returning from your vacation this weekend and might think it odd if he did not make any contact with you. I offered also to let his father know that he was in hospital but I fear that he laughed so much at the suggestion that it brought on a rather distressing coughing fit so I will not raise the question again.

You may wonder why Anthony asked  _me_  to write this letter ... he just woke up again and asked me to add a note for Carl saying that he might need to postpone their game of golf. I did not know that Anthony was a golfer. Hailing as I do from Scotland, I am of course a great lover of the game. Perhaps, if your dear husband still wants to play this weekend, I could be a substitute. I wonder if he had a chance to play on any of the great Scottish, or even English, courses while you were away?  Do, please, let me know if I can be of service in this way.

Anyway, I was going to tell you why I think Anthony asked  _me_  to write to you rather than one of his co-workers. I'm sure Timothy would have been delighted, and he has a rather pleasant writing style: I wouldn't be surprised if there isn't a novel in him waiting to come out. Or Caitlyn would have been happy to be his amanuensis, she has been a great support to him over the last few days. Abigail also would have been pleased to help, she is such a dear, thoughtful girl. But I digress, a habit I too easily fall into, I fear. I wouldn't be surprised if Anthony hasn't made some wry comment about this in his letters to you! If Anthony  _has_  mentioned me to you, he may well have told you that I come from what used to be called, in my day, a 'well-heeled' family. That means that I, too, had a nanny when I was a lad. I think Anthony felt a bit shy about telling his other, well-meaning, co-workers that he had had a nanny but thought that I would understand rather better and would not tease him about it.

Anthony has just murmured something about 'not wanting an iguana in the room'. I had thought his fever had gone down but perhaps it has not. I will ask the nursing staff to check later; I can think of no reason why he should make a reference to an iguana.

I know you may be distressed that you were not here during the onset of Anthony's illness but I assure you that he has been well looked after and cared for, not just by the exemplary medical staff but by his friends and co-workers. Timothy, Caitlyn, Abigail and my assistant Jimmy Palmer have been most assiduous in their attentions and have tried to think of things which might smooth his recovery. Alas, so far, he has not been able fully to appreciate their attentions as he has been asleep most of the time but when his energy levels begin to recover I am sure he will enjoy watching the selection of movies they have brought and also reading the magazines although I am not sure I quite approve of  _all_  their choices. He has received a large number of get well cards and other gifts: I hope, in their abundance, he will recognise the esteem in which he is held by many people, myself included.

Special Agent Gibbs has also shown a wonderful care for Anthony; he has not said much and, indeed Anthony is not yet ready for prolonged conversation as he is unable to speak for long without becoming breathless or coughing. I believe that Jethro's steady, undemanding presence has been a great comfort especially during the nights which can seem so long when one is ill. I do not mean to suggest, of course, that you would not have made a valuable contribution during these difficult days but, as I say, Tony has not suffered as a result of your absence. I believe he may be discharged before the weekend and I think he will probably begin his recuperation at Jethro's house. I am sure that you would open your house to him as well but I think, to begin with at least, it would be prudent for him to remain in Washington within easy reach of the doctors at Bethesda in case of an unlooked for emergency. I do not anticipate such an occurrence but our knowledge of the effects of pneumonic plague is not extensive.

You will be glad, I am sure, to know that the perpetrator of this act of barbarism has been apprehended. Anthony was not specifically targeted; I fear he was just a random victim. There is a tragic story behind all this – almost Shakespearian with its elements of violent death, false accusations and lack of trust between a parent and child. We must just be thankful that another layer of tragedy was not added to the horror and that Anthony will recover to blind us once more with his movie references! I look forward to that day.

I am nearing the end of this sheet of paper and, as our patient has not surfaced again with any cryptic messages, I will end this missive. Before he nodded off, Anthony urged me to send you his love. I am happy to obey his wishes and I also offer my sincerest good wishes to a compatriot. Please be assured that I am ready to help in any way possible.

Donald Mallard.

NCISNCIS

In the disorientation caused by his illness, Tony had forgotten that the day before he opened the SWAK envelope he had received a letter from Mary and Carl to say that they were extending their British holiday by four weeks. This would allow them to attend a family wedding and give Carl an opportunity to play golf on some of the famous British links courses which, as Ducky had speculated, he had fallen in love with. The Forrests had time for such indulgences as they had both retired the year before. They had also moved to Richmond in Virginia, a little further away from Washington but still within a reasonable distance.

When Mary had read Ducky's letter she felt a sense of panic and an overwhelming need to see Tony. She was about to call out to Carl who had begun the unpacking when she looked out of the window and saw Tony standing at the front door. She ran to the door and flung it open just as he had raised a hand to push the bell. He jumped a little but then said,

"Hi, Mary. I hope you don't mind me just turning up. What's the matter, are you all right?"

Mary just stared at him. Something in Dr Mallard's letter returned to her. Tony had probably been so 'out of it' that he didn't remember asking the doctor to write to her. He was probably now going to gloss over what had happened, say he was 'fine.' She wondered how on earth he thought he could deceive her – he was pale, thin and had dark circles under his eyes. He also wore a suspiciously bright smile and over-nonchalant expression on his face. At that moment Carl came down, saw Tony still standing on the doorstep and said,

"Tony, you look awful. What's happened to you?"

Mary saw Tony open his mouth to begin what she suspected would be some convoluted tale - she decided to put him out of his misery.

"Come in and sit down before you fall down. And before you say  _anything,_  let me tell you that I had a letter from Dr Mallard." She gave him a hug to take the sting out of her words, then led him to the couch and handed him the letter. With all escape routes closed to him, Tony was obliged to tell Mary the whole story although he suspected that she would always have got it out of him. She just had to turn 'that look' on him ... the one which had always made him confess if Cook had given him a slice of cake in the morning instead of an apple.

So Mary learned that Tony had stayed two weeks in Agent Gibbs' house before managing to escape his gruff surveillance. He had had a week at home and now, he hoped, had come to stay the weekend with Carl and Mary before going back to work on the Monday. Mary was aghast to hear that he was going back so soon but he insisted that his co-workers were missing him and needed him back. By now, she knew which battles she could win with Tony and which were lost causes so Mary settled for looking after him for the weekend which turned out to mean watching him while he fell asleep or while he picked half-heartedly at what was normally his favourite food. Mary comforted herself with the knowledge that Dr Mallard was determined that Tony should ease back into work gradually and would ensure that he had a gentle return.

When Tony left on Sunday night Mary wrote a grateful note to Ducky. Unfortunately, the note arrived in the middle of the emotional fallout of Agent Todd's death and the usually punctilious Ducky never replied. It meant that their meeting was delayed for many years and happened at another difficult time for Tony.

 


	9. Red Cell and Sub Rosa

Dear Mary

Just a quick note ... I couldn't wait until Sunday to write. This is your first letter from Gibbs' Senior Field Agent! Not just the longest serving agent on Gibbs' team but officially his Senior Field Agent. At last! Of course, he had to announce it in his usual oblique, backhanded sort of way  _and_  after griping at me for not doing my job – but still, he said it, and in front of witnesses too.

I'm not sure McGee and Kate believed me at first and they didn't look all that delighted either! We managed to close the current case that same day but I held back on suggesting a celebration because Gibbs had got a bit beat up when we found the bad guy. I'd always wondered what it would be like if Gibbs went head to head with another gunny and now I know – and it wasn't pretty!

So, the next day, I raised the suggestion that we go out to mark my promotion and McGee went a bit shifty and anxious. The three of us were standing in front of the Boss's desk and McGee said something like, "Er ... Boss, you do know that NCIS Senior Field Agents have to have a master's degree, don't you?" The Boss just looked at him and raised an eyebrow which McGee must have interpreted as saying, "Go on, that's interesting." (I would have interpreted it as, "Are you daring to question me, why don't you go and do something less suicidal?" Anyway, McGee carried on and said, "Cos Tony hasn't got a masters so ... er ... I guess he can't be Senior Field Agent." At which Gibbs raised another eyebrow and looked across at me and jerked his head towards McGee. I used my superior Gibbs speak language skills and said what he wanted me to say, "McJunior Agent, I  _have_ got a masters ... we just don't all keep listing our degrees." McGee sort of gulped in horror (and embarrassment), looked back at Gibbs and didn't know what to do as an apology would have broken another rule and he'd already broken the role about assuming. If I'd been him, I'd have gone and found a toothbrush and got ready to clean up whatever disgusting thing Gibbs directed him towards.

Oh Mary, I know it's not nice of me but I think I've just had the perfect day. Gibbs promoting me (finally) and seeing Kate and Tim completely shocked for once. Happy Days.

Love

Tony (SFA)

NCISNCIS

Mary smiled with delight as she read the letter and then went to the box where she kept all the previous letters. She found the one which Tony had written to her some months before when Tony had first met McGee and before he joined the team permanently.

Dear Mary

Do you remember those old crime shows we used to watch before I went to boarding school? You know the sort of thing, a detective team of two men and one woman where the woman used to trot along behind with her handbag and make coffee for the men and, if she managed to get out of the office, she probably twisted her ankle or got kidnapped? Well, when Kate joined the team I didn't expect her to be like those dumb beauties – I didn't know what to expect really. But what I _really_  didn't expect was that it would be  _me_  cast in the role of tag-a-long Tony. Gibbs seems obsessed with her profiling skills and seems to think I'm just there to provide occasional muscle if he's feeling tired.

Sorry, I'm ranting but I am a bit ... I won't write the word because I know you don't approve of it. Let's settle for saying that I'm annoyed. We've just had a case starting from Norfolk which meant going out to a submarine that was on exercise. And Gibbs chose Kate to go. Part of me wants to think he did it just to 'annoy' the guy in charge who was probably a fan of those old crime shows and thinks they got the role of women just about right. But he told the squadron commander that it was because Kate was better qualified than me to go. Huh, he's trusted my instincts about people fine until now but along comes a fancy Secret Service profiler and he's gone all swoony over her. I know it sounds petty and childish ... and I'm sorry. I guess I've always wanted to go on a submarine and Kate went instead of me. Now I see it written down, it all seems a bit trivial.

As you always suggest, I'm trying to make the best of this, see the good in the situation. So I'm trying to think it's a positive thing that Gibbs left me in charge of the shore based part of the investigation and, thinking about it, he couldn't really have left Kate to do that – she's not experienced enough. So I had the pleasure of working with NCIS agent Timothy McGee who is based at Norfolk and called the original crime in. Oh Mary, he is the greenest thing I've ever seen – literally to start with when we arrived and he'd just finished barfing. To be fair, the body was in an 'interesting' condition and it didn't help that Ducky was waxing lyrical over how it had reached that state!

So I took McGee under my wing so to speak and I think we got on well. I was quite impressed with him – he had a good idea when we went to visit the Navy Personnel Office to follow up a Gibbs' hunch so I decided to ease up on him a bit. He told me he wants to be a field agent one day but he'll have to loosen up a bit – he's so tense that if you said 'boo' to him he'd probably go into orbit. Very by the book too, it would drive Gibbs mad. Anyway, we found a suspect's house and ... er, managed to get in. We found a hidden room with all sorts of computer stuff in and McGee's eyes lit up and he went into action. It was a bit like watching Clark Kent morph into Superman. As he tapped on the keyboard bringing up all these scary images and creepy sounds, McGee told me all about his degrees and stuff.

I might have made a strategic error, Mary. McGee asked me what I did at university. (Perhaps I should be relieved that he thought I looked bright enough to have a degree at all but it was probably because he knows it's a base criteria for being an agent). Anyway, I said my degree was phys ed and then I added, and I don't know why I did, "I was a jock". And McGee looked at me in this sympathetic, knowing sort of way and nodded and I realised that I'd been weighed up, analysed, put in a little box and, sort of, dismissed. All very kind, you know, but dismissed – I think it was probably his geek instinct. Perhaps I'll call him McGeek!

I wrote him up well, gave him a good report – well, it's always good to have a geek on your side but I'm not sure how much more we'll see of him seeing as he's stationed in Norfolk. He took an unlikely shine to Abby, though, so perhaps he will turn up now and then. I can't see that it would last between them but Abby's nothing if not unpredictable.

Kate came back from the sub all happy and bouncy but I tried to be nice, mature. After all I am the senior agent on the team – not  _the_ Senior Field Agent which is something different but the longest serving agent ... apart from Gibbs, of course and there is responsibility that goes with that. But it all feels a bit odd – I was out skilled on all fronts during this case. The only skill I exercised was throwing a rock through a window and that's not really something to write home about ... although I just have!

I guess I'll have to grin and bear it – just like I always do and hope, well I'm not sure what to hope for. I don't really want Kate to mess up because, when it comes down to it, it's getting the job done that's the important thing but I just wish  _I_ could get something right for a change and hear Gibbs say that I was the most qualified to do something. In my dreams...

Love

Tony

NCISNCIS

As Mary held both letters in her hands she breathed a sigh of relief that Gibbs had come to, what she thought were, his senses and recognised the value of Tony. She hoped that months of self-doubt and insecurity might now come to an end and, for almost the first time, she felt thankful for Tony's broken leg which had led to his acquiring a slightly unlikely master's degree.

The news about Tony injuring his leg in the football match against Michigan had gone round the campus like wildfire. The accounts varied in accuracy with some saying that it was just a sprain while others said that the leg was shattered beyond repair. Mary, waiting with Tony in the hospital the next day, was grateful that the more lurid tales were wrong but it seemed that the break was bad enough and would take some time to heal. Tony's future as a professional football and/or basketball player was now uncertain and wouldn't become clear until the bones had knitted together once more.

Tony lay silent in his bed feeling fuzzy from the painkillers and also from a sense of disbelief at the way his future might have changed in a few seconds. Although he knew that he had begun to have doubts about going into professional sports, it was one thing to being making that decision voluntarily and another to have it stolen from him. He sighed and shifted position trying to get a bit more comfortable.

"Do you want me to ask the nurse for another painkiller?" asked Mary.

"No, it's all right. It just aches now. When can I go home ...?" he trailed off as he wondered where he'd be going back to. The frat house wasn't very accessible so perhaps he'd had have to go to Carl and Mary but they lived some distance from the campus so he'd be out of touch with his friends. He sighed again.

"It'll be all right, Tony," said Mary, "we'll work it out." Tony looked at her doubtfully. He had great faith in Mary's abilities but he doubted that she could fix a broken leg just through her normal efficiency and kindness. He lacked the energy to argue, however, so contented himself with another sigh.

"The doctors here have had lots of experience in football injuries," continued Mary, "and they're optimistic. It'll just take time." She realised they were hard words to hear especially for someone of Tony's age and at such a pivotal time for him.

"But all the trials and things are about to happen and I won't be around for them. Next year might be too late." Mary didn't know much about how this all worked but she did know that timing was crucial and even a simple, ill-timed injury could be devastating. Unfortunately Tony's was not a simple injury and it was certainly as ill-timed as it could be.

Tony's coach and various team-mates had visited during the day and Mary had been impressed how Tony had managed to maintain a cheerful attitude and not complained about what the Michigan player, Brad Pitt, had done. Tony was a sportsman and he knew that things like this happened. Now however, after several hours of determined cheerfulness, the strain of being a good sport was beginning to tell and the smile was beginning to slip. Mary and Tony heard the door opening and looked up, glad of a distraction.

Carl came in with a slightly puzzled look on his face,

"Tony, I've just had a conversation with one of your professors and one of the administrators from Michigan". Tony didn't look very interested but Carl continued,

"Both universities are concerned about the injury and the potential damage to your prospects of a sporting career. They have a proposal to make."

Tony still didn't respond but Mary looked interested.

"Michigan are willing to fund you staying at OSU for an extra year. That way, if all goes well, you'll still be a student here next year when the trials and things start up again."

"But what would he do?" asked Mary, seeing Tony still not really taking it in.

"They're suggesting he do a master's. Perhaps in something sport related or administration. It's a good opportunity."

"Where would I live?" asked Tony, "the frat house has got lots of stairs and the doctor says I won't be mobile for a while. I can't live with you and Mary – you're too far out."

"OSU are concerned as well and they're willing to do some work on the frat house so that you could have a downstairs room with a bathroom so you could manage better."

"Why are they doing all this?" asked Mary, "do they think Tony has some sort of financial claim on them, that he could sue them?"

"Partly," admitted Carl, "Tony stands a good chance of a highly paid sports career: possibly a good lawyer could find some case for negligence."

"Don't tell Senior," broke in Tony,” I don't want him making a fuss and trying to make money out of this. I don't blame anyone. I should probably have zigged instead of zagged." He tried to laugh but didn't make a very good job of it.

"We won't," promised Mary, "but I have already tried to send a message to say you'd been hurt so he might turn up."

"And he might not," said Tony tiredly. "What do you think I should do?" Mary thought for a couple of moments,

"I think getting a master's would be a good idea. An extra qualification would be useful – there are some jobs that you can get into with a bachelor's degree but you need a master's to get on further. If you don't fancy doing sports or admin perhaps you could something like, I don't know ..."

"Shakespeare," said Tony unexpectedly.

"Shakespeare?" said Carl and Mary in unison.

"Shakespeare," said Tony again, "perhaps I could do something on the tragedies ... no, too depressing, the comedies or the sonnets." He looked up at their surprised faces and said a bit sheepishly, "I enjoyed the English 101 we did on Shakespeare, I liked the language and so on and chicks ... er ... girls like a bit of poetry, it makes them think I'm sensitive. Or do you think it's a bad idea?"

"Hey, I'm an English teacher,” said Carl, "I think it's a great idea. I just didn't know you were interested."

The more Mary thought about it, the more it made sense to her. English had always been one of Tony's strongest subjects and perhaps it would be good for him to do something completely away from sports.

So, somewhat to everyone's surprise, Tony stayed an extra year at Ohio and studied for a master's in English literature focussing on modern day interpretations of Shakespeare's plays in film and on stage. And also, to many people's surprise, he enjoyed it and did well and had many spirited discussions with Carl over the months. His leg healed well but the doctors and the potential big sports teams agreed that it would be too risky to play professional sports and so that dream had to be laid aside. Carl wondered if Tony's newly acknowledged love of Shakespeare would lead him into teaching the subject but something else beckoned instead. Tony was always slightly embarrassed to be doing the English master's so rarely spoke about it ... but Mary's words turned out to be prophetic.

 


	10. Twisted Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story begins to take a different twist.

Dear Mary

Have you ever had a letter from a fictional character? Well, you have now. According to McHemingway anyway. Do you remember I told you that Ziva and I had noticed that McGee was splashing the cash a bit – fancy jacket, top of the range cell, personal trainer and so on?

Turns out that he's written a book 'Deep Six: The Continuing Adventures of L.J. Tibbs'. Hmmm, wonder where he got that title from; hmmm, wonder who LJ Tibbs could be? And it's worse – the senior field agent is called 'Tommy' and his beautiful female co-worker is called 'Lisa'. Ring any bells? The autopsy assistant is 'Pimmy Jalmer', forensic scientist is Amy Sutton and the all-round good guy is McGregor.

McGee likes to let it be known how intelligent he is, so it seems rather strange to me (but obviously my intellect is just in the foothills compared to his Mount Everest of a brain) that he should choose to reveal, to thousands of strangers, rather intimate details about Abby who, as she likes to point out, is the one person who could kill him without leaving a trace. But then, I guess it doesn't show a good sense of self-preservation to put Ziva and Gibbs, both of whom can kill just with a glance, in a book either. 'Pimmy' and 'Tommy' probably won't use lethal force but we'll be tempted to help the others dispose of the body.

In other circumstances, I might have felt sorry for our author. The current case involved his sister Sarah (who he's never mentioned to us) being the suspect in a murder and I was inclined to be sympathetic although he didn't really do things by the book (no pun intended). Anyway, as I say, I was ready to lend a shoulder to cry on but then Sarah let the cat out of the bag about her brother being a bestselling author. Oh, did I forget to mention the 'bestselling' author bit?

And even then, I might have been able to take the high road, smile sweetly and be happy for McJuniorAgent. I might have been able to rise above Tommy being 'swashbuckling and socially repugnant' especially as his more observant sister thought I was much nicer than Tommy. So, Mary, I might have been the bigger person  _but_ when Ziva and I rushed out to buy the book we discovered that McGregor thinks that Tommy and Lisa are  _lovers_. Oh, God. I can't believe I paid good money to buy the book, that I helped line the misguided sap's pockets!

Gibbs, who, by the way, 'drinks to relieve the burden of his Messiah complex' seems to be taking it all very calmly but he may simply be thinking of a way to lure the plucky McGregor into his basement - from which he will never emerge.

I hope Tim's made lots of money because he's going to need it to buy some new friends. Joking apart, I think we do genuinely feel betrayed and I don't think he understands that. I bet you're glad you've never met my co-workers, aren't you?

I haven't worked out yet whether Kate makes an appearance in the book. If she does, she may rise from her grave to haunt the Probie! In the meantime 'my' Kate is happily swimming round with nothing on her mind except to wonder if I remembered to buy a new pot of fish food. I did. So she sends her love and I send mine.

Ciao

Tony ( _not_  Tommy)

PS I'm not jealous that McPlagiarist's book sold more than mine and Carl's!

NCISNCIS

Mary frowned a little as she read the letter – how could anyone call Tony 'socially repugnant?' Until now, she'd always had a bit of a soft spot for the blundering Tim who was often mentioned in Tony's letters but now she found herself wondering if she'd misjudged him. She'd thought of him as essentially a goodhearted sort of person who got things wrong sometimes but this book seemed very thoughtless.

She did smile, however, at the reference to Tony's book. In his retirement, Carl had begun to write Shakespeare commentaries intended for use in high schools. After Tony had written his master's paper on Shakespeare in the cinema and modern theatre, Carl had half-jokingly suggested that Tony write a chapter on that subject for his book. And so Tony had, the publisher had liked it and asked that it be a regular feature in future books. Mary would never forget Tony's face when, on a visit to see them, Carl had shown him the new commentary on 'King Lear' written by Carl Forrest and Tony Paddington. They had guessed that Tony wouldn't want to appear on the book under his real name so gave him his mother's surname. Tony had been simply delighted; Mary spotted him occasionally tracing his thumb over his name on the book cover but she refrained from teasing him.

The books were never going to make anyone a fortune but they sold well and added to Carl and Mary's retirement income. A smaller amount also made its way regularly into a new bank account under the name Tony Paddington!

Mary put the letter back in its envelope and looked thoughtfully out of the window. She remembered another time when she had finished a letter from Tony and looked out of another window to see him standing there. She wished that could happen today. She was startled out of memories by a nervous cough.

"You have a lot of letters, Mrs Forrest."

Mary looked at her companion,

"Yes, Agent McGee, I do. Tony is a good correspondent."

"They're all from Tony?"

"Yes, is that so surprising?"

"No, no, of course not. I... I... just can't imagine Tony sitting down to write a letter. I would have thought he'd phone instead. He loves his phone, can't live without his cell." McGee winced at his possible poor choice of words. He wished that Gibbs would come soon.

NCISNCIS

Monday morning in the MCRT squad room had started off quietly. More quiet than usual as Tony had a few days’ vacation. Tim could never quite understand how he found it more difficult to concentrate when Tony wasn't there; he supposed that he had become used to a perpetual sort of hum coming from Tony's desk. Still, the remaining members of the team had plodded on with their work until they were interrupted by Tony's desk phone ringing.

McGee looked at it suspiciously – he had developed something of a phobia about answering Tony's phone after the dentist debacle. Gibbs had no sympathy with these finer feelings and said,

"McGee," while nodding his head towards Tony's desk.

McGee got up reluctantly and picked up the receiver.

"Special Agent DiNozzo's phone. How may I help?"

The MCRT team never knew who would be on the other end of Tony's phone – he seemed to have an amazing variety of contacts from all walks of life. Tim didn't recognise the voice today. Ziva and Gibbs listened in, ready to be distracted from the monotony of paper work.

"No, Agent DiNozzo is not in the office today. He's on vacation at the moment. He'll be back on Thursday if you want to call back then ... I see ... do you have a phone number or an address we can get back to you on?" He scribbled on a piece of paper. "Yes, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Goodbye. That's odd," he said, as he put the phone down. He saw Gibbs' impatient look and hurried on.

"That was a friend of Tony. Says she was due to meet him at 10.00am and he hasn't turned up. She was concerned."

"It's not midday yet," said Gibbs, "it's a bit early to be worrying yet." But he didn't look completely unworried himself.

"We cannot hope to keep track of all Tony's dates," said Ziva, trying to sound unconcerned, "he has probably double booked himself."

"I don't think it was a date," said McGee, "she sounded a bit older than Tony's usual dates. And she was quite certain that Tony wouldn't let her down."

"Try his cell," ordered Gibbs, "anyone know what he was planning for his days off? Pretty sure he wasn't leaving DC. He'd have told me if he was."

Nobody seemed to know what Tony had planned, the leave had been booked simply because Vance had ordered that the MCRT use some of its back log of vacation and comp time so it wasn't surprising that Tony didn't seem to have anything particular in mind.

The cell phone went to voice mail and Tony's home phone went to the answer machine.

"What shall we do, Boss?" asked Tim.

"It is still too early to be declaring him missing, is it not?" asked Ziva, looking poised for action despite her words.

"Ziva, get Abby to trace his cell. McGee go and see this ... Mrs Forrest. See what she has to say."

Abby was always a little jittery when one of her 'musketeers' was away and those nerves jangled a bit more when she heard the news of Tony's missed appointment. It didn't help when she was unable to trace Tony's cell. The best she could do was find that the last call had been made from his apartment the previous Saturday.

She went up to the squad room to report on her findings and to get some reassurance from Gibbs. She didn't get as much reassurance as she had hoped for. Gibbs' gut was swinging into action and Ziva was usually well attuned to the team leader's gut so she was sharpening a knife to calm her nerves.

"We'll wait to hear from McGee," decided Gibbs, "Ziva, start looking into this Miriam Forrest. See what you can find out."

"I'll help," said Abby, determinedly.

NCISNCIS

Meanwhile McGee had arrived at a pleasant apartment block about three miles from the centre of DC. Mary opened the door rather quickly when he rang the bell and Tim realised that she probably hoped it was Tony.

"Mrs Forrest, my name is Special Agent Timothy McGee. We spoke on the phone. I'm one of Agent DiNozzo's co-workers." He noticed that Mrs Forrest had gone pale and he realised that perhaps she was fearing the worst as he produced his badge. "I'm afraid we haven't been able to locate Tony. Agent Gibbs suggested I come and see you and get some more details".

"Please come in, Agent McGee. May I get you something to drink?"

Tim shook his head and then sat down where Mary indicated. He looked round the room and was surprised to see what looked like a wedding photograph of Mrs Forrest, a smiling man and a beaming younger version of Tony. There was also what looked like a more recent photo of Tony and Mrs Forrest in a restaurant. Mary saw him looking at the photos,

"That was taken on my birthday a few weeks ago, just after my husband and I moved to DC."

"You've known Tony a long time, then?" asked McGee.

"Since he was a child."

"He's never mentioned still knowing anyone from his childhood. Apart from Mr DiNozzo Senior, of course".

"Do you tell your co-workers everything about your life outside work, Agent McGee?" asked Mary. Tim looked at her and wondered what Tony had written her about him. She had a way of looking at him which reminded him of the stricter teachers at school, the ones who hadn't been too inclined to let him off sports in favour of computer club.

"No, no, of course not, ma'am. Uh, could you please explain why you were worried when Tony didn't keep your appointment this morning?"

"He would have let me know if something had come up, and he didn't. Tony was going to take me to the Hirshhorn Sculpture Garden."

"Tony was going to an art gallery?" said McGee incredulously. Mrs Forrest looked at him a bit coolly but said politely,

"Yes, we were looking forward to it. One of the reasons my husband and I moved to Washington was to take advantage of the museums and galleries. Tony had a few days’ vacation coming and agreed to escort me to some of them".

"And where is your husband at the moment?" asked McGee. Mrs Forrest paused, perhaps she was deciding whether this was an impertinent question or not.

"He's in the United Kingdom visiting a publisher." McGee thought he could discern a twinkle in Mrs Forrest's eye as she said this. "He has published several books in this country and now the UK branch of the publishing house is interested too. I understand that you are an author too, Agent McGee."

At that moment, McGee was sure that this woman knew a lot more about him than he knew about her and he quailed a bit at the thought of what Tony might have told her. He decided he needed reinforcements, or permission to leave.

"I think I'm going to phone my boss ..."

"Agent Tibbs?" enquired Mary, "oh no, sorry, I meant Agent Gibbs." There was a hint of steely amusement in her grey eyes as she said this. "I think that's a good idea. I'll go and make us some coffee while we wait. That'll give you some privacy."

McGee breathed a small sigh of relief as she left the room. He hit the Boss button on his phone.

"Boss, it's McGee. It's not what we expected. I don't think Tony would have stood Mrs Forrest up. Did Abby trace his cell yet? OK. I'll wait here for you."

As he ended the call, he looked round to see Mrs Forrest standing at the door looking anxious, the previous amusement had vanished.

"Do you think something's happened, Agent McGee?"

"I don't know," said McGee honestly, "Special Agent Gibbs is on his way: he hasn't been able to find Tony either".

So they sat and waited. Mary drank her coffee and then occupied herself with reading a letter. McGee had hundreds of questions he wanted to ask of this woman who seemed to have known Tony for years but politeness prevented him. He had only known Mrs Forrest for a short time but he already wondered what would happen when she was in the same room as Gibbs ... he saw that Mrs Forrest had finished the letter and was looking out of the window, he broke the silence with a nervous cough.

"You have a lot of letters, Mrs Forrest."

 


	11. Sandblast

Dear Mary

I might need to take my tuxedo to the cleaner's. I may be going to a wedding soon – although, on reflection, it's not very likely that a Gibbs' wedding would involve much dressing up. More likely to be jeans and sweatshirt and toasting the happy couple with bourbon. The lucky lady may have other opinions of course and want something a bit more spit and polish. I think I'll get the jacket spruced up just in case.

McGee, Ziva and I think that Gibbs met his next wife during the last case – to be completely accurate, we think he met his next  _ex_ -wife because, let's face it, the guy hasn't got the best track record when it comes to things marital. Martial yes, marital no. Martial might be appropriate though as Gibbs' new squeeze-in-waiting is an Army Colonel, a very feisty Army Colonel. Under other circumstances watching them circle each other and marking their territory would have been amusing – they just about refrained from peeing on anything (or anyone) but it was a close run thing.

Actually it was a bit of a sad case – yes, I know, our cases aren't often a barrel of laughs but this one got under my skin a bit. A youngster, just a couple of days away from starting at Princeton, was playing golf with his dad who was about to deploy again. Turned out that a bunker (or sand trap) was booby-trapped and the poor kid saw his father blown up. I got the job of talking to the lad. Gibbs might have given me the job as a reward for some sterling work from his SFA on the golf course which showed up Colonel Mann or because he recognises my deep wells of compassion. On the other hand it might just have been that Ziva would have terrified the kid, McGee would have stuttered too much so I was just the best option. It's impossible to tell with Gibbs.

And just to prove that it's impossible to tell with Gibbs, I'll tell you something else he did. The kid, Josh, and I got on fairly well. His mom picked up on that and called me to say that Josh was thinking of giving up on Princeton and going into the Marines to avenge his dad. I went round to try, well, not to talk him out of it, but to try and put it into perspective a bit. You know, he's a sweet kid. When I went to see him, he was playing jazz records, sort of in memory of his dad because they'd listened to them together. I can't imagine what I'd do in memory of Senior – I don't think there's anything that would symbolise things we'd done together ... unless it's eat wedding cake.

Anyway, we had a good talk – I'm not really into Gibbs' method of grunting and staring and it must have had an effect because he decided to postpone his one man assault on terrorists and go to school instead. Of course, it might just be that he thought it would shut me up. I told Gibbs what I was doing – didn't want him to think I was playing hooky. I annoy him enough slipping away at the moment so no need to do it unnecessarily.

I got a call to join the team where they thought the bomber was going to be and Gibbs decided, without any warning of course, that he was going to talk to the suspect. And this is the hinky thing. He was obviously trying to put the guy at ease so when he saw that he was playing some sort of game on his phone, he said,

"My son Tony plays that game."

I don't know what to make of that, Mary. Is it something he thinks of? Was it just the first name that came into his head? Is it just that he associates me with playing games on my phone (which I admit, I do occasionally!) I don't know. I know he was pleased with me for 'talking Josh down from enlisting' so perhaps that's why he said it. As I say, I don't know but I do know that if he'd said 'his son, Tim' I'd probably be even more of a nervous wreck.

Ziva, Tim and I were a little bit proud of ourselves on this case because we stood up to Gibbs and refused to obey an order. I'm not sure how much of a consolation that would have been to you if, as a result, we'd been blown to smithereens. You could have put it on my headstone, "Here lies Anthony DiNozzo. He died defying Gibbs". Please don't put Junior on the inscription.

Sorry, that's probably in bad taste. All's well that ends well and we have the added excitement of watching a Gibbs romance weave a tortuous route over the next few weeks.

Kate also seems to be weaving a tortuous route among her rocks and weeds. I think she's developed a new fitness regime. She sends her rather breathless love and I send mine too (fortunately not breathless)

Ciao

Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary closed the letter and put it back in the envelope thoughtfully. Like Tony, she didn't quite know what to make of Agent Gibbs and she wasn't sure what Tony  _wanted_ to make of him. Was Tony looking for a father figure? She thought he would probably deny it but perhaps somewhere deep within, he was? Some people might have expected Carl to have fulfilled the seemingly vacant father role but it had never happened. Tony and Carl had always got on well but when Carl first came on the scene Tony had still been fiercely loyal to his father and didn't really consider that he needed a substitute.

Perhaps by the time Tony's eyes had been opened about his father, he didn't look for a father figure substitute but rather was looking for someone who displayed some 'fatherly' traits: dependability, honesty and integrity. Those characteristics it seemed, he had found in abundance in the unlikely shape of a gruff and prickly former marine. Mary thought it said a lot for Tony's maturity that he no longer looked for perfection in those he admired. That had been proved for her when Gibbs had returned so abruptly from his Mexican jaunt and had brusquely and cavalierly assumed his former position.

Tony told her afterwards that he had written her a letter about finding all his work possessions dumped back in his former desk after Gibbs' return. He said he had been both incandescent with fury and exhausted with the effort of not showing any of his disappointment and rage to his co-workers. The letter had never been sent. Tony told her that just writing it had helped him to vent some of the emotions and helped him get things back into perspective. It wasn't that the anger magically went away but rather that Tony faced up to the flaws in his boss. He seemed to have decided that the loyalty and care that Gibbs had shown him in the past outweighed a few months' aberration in the aftermath of an emotional trauma. So he had carried on with his characteristic determination to make the best of things and hid his real feelings from the world.

If Mary was unsure what Tony wanted of Gibbs, she was even less sure of what Gibbs wanted of Tony. Would he have said those words about his 'son' which had both pleased and troubled Tony without thinking what they would mean to Tony? Anyone with an ounce of intelligence would know how Tony would take such things to heart and she was pretty sure that Gibbs had more than an ounce of intelligence. So did that mean that he'd said those words without caring about the effect or had he chosen to say them because he could say them with honesty? Tony might not be looking for a father figure but was Gibbs looking for a 'son figure?'

A long peal on the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. She suspected she was about to meet the colossus in Tony's life.

Agent McGee jumped to his feet and made his way to the door. He then stopped as he realised it might be considered rude to assume he could answer the door in someone else's house. Mary didn't mind and realised that it would give him an opportunity to brief Gibbs on the strange situation he had uncovered. She was right, she heard a murmured conversation in the entrance way and stood up ready to meet Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"Er ... Boss, this is Mrs Forrest who called us this morning about Tony. Mrs Forrest, this is Special Agent Gibbs ... but you know that already."

Mary and Gibbs shook hands. Mary had to commend his handshake: almost the perfect shake she had tried to teach Tony all those years ago. "Firm but not painful, not too short and not too long and look the person in the eye, Tony". His hand was surprisingly warm; for some reason she had expected it to be cool, reflecting his calm exterior. Mary found herself reassured by this and then realised that she had become lost in thought as she mused on the power of a handshake. Gibbs and McGee were looking at her rather quizzically. She pulled herself together.

"Please sit down. How can I help?" she said.

Gibbs seemed to approve this no-nonsense approach as he smiled at her. Mary wondered if this was one of the smiles Tony thought he reserved for the young, the elderly and the sick.

"You phoned the office today because you were concerned Tony hadn't kept an appointment with you?"

"I'm not sure I was concerned exactly. I assumed that something had come up and Tony had been called into work early and hadn't yet had a chance to call me. I thought it would be better to know sooner rather than later if our plans had to be changed. When Agent McGee told me that Tony wasn't at work, I did become more concerned. It would be unlike Tony not to let me know he had to change a meeting."

She saw Gibbs scanning the room and then looking intently at the photographs of her with Tony.

"You seem to have known Tony for some time, Mrs Forrest."

"That's right, Agent Gibbs."

They stared at one another for a few moments. Mary wondered how much to say to Tony's co-workers. She knew from Dr Mallard's letter that Tony hadn't mentioned her to his team mates and she was reluctant to expose him to any potential ridicule. On the other hand, she wanted Agent Gibbs to know that she understood Tony well and was a good judge of how he was likely to behave.

"I've known Tony since he was a child and we have always kept in touch." She hoped that didn't sound evasive.

"I would say you've done more than that, Mrs Forrest. I asked my other junior agent to do some digging. It seems that you were Tony's nanny for a number of years and then followed him to boarding school and somehow have always ended up living close to him. And now you've moved to DC, just a few miles from his apartment."

Mary began to regret her first favourable impression.

"You have an interesting turn of phrase, Agent Gibbs. Are you suggesting I'm stalking him in some way?"

Gibbs just gave an eloquent shrug and Mary recognised a practiced interview technique.

"Yes, I was Tony's nanny for a few years before he went to boarding school. I became very fond of him and decided, when he went away, that as I would be in need of employment it would help all of us if I found work near Tony's school. I am afraid I did not have very high expectations of his father's care for Tony and felt he would benefit from having a responsible adult around him. Once he went to college and then became a police officer it turned out to be relatively easy either for my husband and I to move near to Tony or for him to choose to live near us."

"So, you've moved around the country to be near Tony?" said McGee with a touch of wonder in his voice.

"Yes," said Mary.

"But why?" asked McGee still not seeing the obvious.

Mary lost patience a bit,

"Because I love him, Agent McGee. We are fond of one another. Is that so hard to believe?"

McGee blushed a little in embarrassment while Gibbs nodded slightly in satisfaction. Mary thought that perhaps he had anticipated that McGee would inadvertently goad her into openness. Or perhaps he was just a master opportunist, always ready to make use of what happened and make the connections for which Tony admired him so much. Mary also smiled in acknowledgment.

"Agent Gibbs, as you clearly know, I have known Tony since he was eight years old and I would say that I know him pretty well. In my experience, he is responsible and keeps his promises." She paused to direct a searching look at a coughing McGee, "Agent McGee, can I get you a glass of water?" He shook his head in a flustered way. "Agent Gibbs, you have known Tony for a number of years and, from what Tony has told me, you don't suffer fools gladly so I am guessing that you don't think Tony is a fool and that you find him reliable in the important things."

Gibbs nodded.

"I am also guessing that you have not asked your team to investigate me just because you are having a quiet day in the office. Do you think something has happened to Tony?"

"I agree with you that Tony is dependable. Tim, don't look so surprised – do you really think I keep anyone on my team who I can't rely on?" McGee looked as if he wished he was recording this conversation so that he could analyse it later but he wisely kept silence. Gibbs continued, "At the moment there is nothing except my gut and your ... instincts to say something is wrong. We can't contact Tony but he's on vacation and it wouldn't be unreasonable for someone to switch their phone off when they don't have to work."

"Has Tony ever done that?" asked Mary.

"No, he hasn't. Tony, despite the impression he sometimes likes to give, is very dedicated," said Gibbs.

"And it's one of the rules, isn't it?" asked Mary a little mischievously.

"You know more than me," smiled Gibbs, "but yes, it is a rule and Tony takes the rules very seriously."

Perhaps it was the rules that attracted Tony, thought Mary. If someone lives by rules, and those rules are known, perhaps that person can be trusted.

"So you're worried because Tony is out of contact?"

"Yes, and because he hasn't contacted you. He knows I'd rip him a new one for being out of reach but he knows that you'd be worried if he let you down and I have a feeling that he cares for you too much to do that."

Mary relaxed slightly, she felt that she and Agent Gibbs had reached an understanding, at least for the moment. She thought she could sense his concern and that it was for more than just a co-worker.

"When did you last speak to Tony, Mrs Forrest?" asked McGee.

"On Saturday. We confirmed today's arrangements. He said he was going to do some shopping and some chores."

"He didn't say what he had planned for the weekend?" continued McGee.

"No. I expect it had something to do with watching movies, going for a run, possibly catching up with old friends."

"Any friends in particular?"

"No, Agent McGee, Tony doesn't tell me everything he does. In fact, he's very discreet about what he tells me about lots of things, including his work. He doesn't broadcast the details of his cases."

Both Gibbs and Mary looked at McGee who swallowed nervously and made a note in his pad. He was beginning to wonder how Tony coped with both Gibbs and Mrs Forrest in his life since both, in different ways, seemed to be able to get to the heart of things with incredible speed. He wondered if Mrs Forrest had ever head slapped Tony but couldn't think how he would ever get up the courage to ask her.

"Have anyone been to his apartment yet?" asked Mary a little nervously.

"Yeah, I went on my way over here. He wasn't there and everything looked to be in place," said Gibbs,

"And was Kate there?" asked Mary.

"Kate?" queried Gibbs.

"The goldfish," said McGee in a low voice.

"Yes, er ... Kate was there."

"He always gets someone to look after her if he's going away, even if it's just for a night. If he has to work unexpectedly he gets the little girl down the hall to feed her. It might be worth checking with her to see if Tony asked her to look in on Kate," suggested Mary.

"McGee, get on to that. Mrs Forrest, perhaps you could come over to Tony's place as well. I couldn't spot anything odd but you might see something I couldn't."

Mary took it as a sign of acceptance on Gibbs' part that he was ready to admit that she might know Tony at least as well as he did.

"Agent Gibbs, what do you think might have happened?"

"Honestly, Mrs Forrest? I don't know,"

"We've got a list of people who don't like Tony and might be out to get him," offered Tim, “we drew it up the first time he got framed for murder. It was quite a long list ... and it's probably got longer now. It's because he's been a cop for so long and because, well, because he's Tony really."

"McGee," said Gibbs firmly, cutting off McGee's efforts to be helpful, "find the girl who looks after Tony's fish and then go look for his car. Tell Abby to keep a trace going on his phone and help Ziva listen out for any chatter. Mrs Forrest and I will go to Tony's apartment."

"That should be quite an experience," said Mary trying to keep a brave face, "Tony has told me about your driving, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded – he approved of Tony's former nanny. She was made of stern stuff and despite the sense of gloom hovering over all of them, she was keeping calm. He hoped that McGee was being unduly pessimistic but his gut wasn't playing ball.

 


	12. Flesh and Blood

Dear Mary

I had an unexpected visitor this week – Senior turned up! I knew something must be wrong, he came by train! Have you ever known him go anywhere on public transport? He'll be travelling on buses next! Sorry, three exclamation points in four sentences – I'll calm down.

I can't tell you much about the case because it was one that involved the bad guy claiming diplomatic immunity and disgruntled huffing from Gibbs and Co. Not sure I was at my best. To tell the truth, it was a bit distracting having Dad around.   Boy, did he 'bond' with the team - who lapped up the charm. Not sure if Gibbs bought into it; he corralled Senior into a conference room for a 'chat' (I know that seems unlikely) and they both came out a bit steely eyed so there might have been bit of head to head stuff going on.

When Dad left he said how much he'd enjoyed our chat – I can't think what he enjoyed about it. It was at the Adams House hotel, over a drink. Mine was non-alcoholic which might have been the problem! I was trying to explain how I would have liked a closer relationship with him rather than being sent off to camp and boarding school ... and he had the nerve to say that we'd gone on great vacations together. I mentioned him about leaving me in that hotel in Maui when I was twelve and he just gave one of those irritating smirks and shrugged it off.

I was suspicious about why he'd come to see me and I got my faithful sidekick McGee to get me into his financial records (let's just call it a perk of being a federal agent) and I found out that he's tapped out. Everything's mortgaged or sold, no credit, no nothing, who knows what's he living on? I guess he'd come to tell me what was going on but, thanks to meeting an old friend, he thinks he got an opening on another deal. I may have helped him with that, and sort of bailed him out. So, he's off on his merry way and I don't expect I'll see him again for years.

Weird thing was, he hugged me when he left and said, 'I love you, Anthony." I can't remember him ever hugging  _me_  – I remember  _me_  trying to hug him a few times, thinking that's what kids did with their dads, and him shaking my hand instead. So, don't know where that hug came from – perhaps it was a Gibbs effect? I went round to Gibbs' afterwards for cowboy style steaks and beer – he got it all out of me in about ten seconds flat but it was kind of soothing to go and sit with someone who knew me well enough to work out what happened and just be there. He didn't want to analyse it, pick holes in it – he just accepts the situation as it is and goes on from there.

I know you think Gibbs is tough on me, and he is, but this time, when I really was all over the place he didn't call me on it. He understood where I was coming from and stood by me. Doesn't really sound like anything that Senior would understand, does it?

Oh, and I think Dad was doing something hinky with one of my bank accounts. I might have to see if there's anything I can do about that. Makes me realise why Uncle Clive always paid you directly rather than giving my esteemed parent the cash to pass on to you.

Fortunately Dad didn't make it to the apartment so at least there's one 'team member' he hasn't met. Kate remains as innocent as the day I got her. She sends her love and I send mine as always.

Ciao

Tony.

NCISNCIS

Mary returned the letter to its envelope. She had picked it out at random when Agent Gibbs had driven her back after visiting Tony's apartment. There had been nothing out of the ordinary, the apartment had been in its usual neat condition. She had admitted to Gibbs that she didn't know the place well enough to know if there was anything missing or out of place – Tony tended to visit her at her home or they met on visits to places of interest. Gibbs had dropped her off and then driven back to the Navy Yard to get an update.

Left alone, with too much time to think, she had decided to read the letter. She remembered that vacation in Maui very well. It was Tony's first year at boarding school and he had been wildly excited when his father had suggested the trip to Hawaii. Mary had suspected that some sort of deal was in the offing and even wondered whether the presence of a twelve year old boy was intended to foster a responsible, loving father image. Still, Tony had been delighted to go and he had hardly seen his father since he went away to school and Mary hoped that all would go well.

It had been a week into what was going to be a two week vacation that she got a call from the Maui Hilton.

"Is that Miss Poplar?"

"Yes,"

"I'm calling from the Hilton Hotel in Maui. Anthony DiNozzo Junior suggested we call you."

"Is Tony all right?" asked Mary.

"He has a bit of a stomach ache from eating too much popcorn but otherwise he is fine."

"I don't quite understand why you are calling me," said Mary.

"Er ... this is rather delicate, I'm afraid. A cleaner went into the DiNozzo suite this morning and found young Anthony on his own there. It seems that his father left him there the day before yesterday saying he had an appointment and did not return."

"Is Mr DiNozzo all right?" asked Mary, not at all sure she cared very much.

"Mr DiNozzo is, I believe, in perfect health," came the slightly disapproving reply. "He phoned last night to say that he was checking out and asking us to send his baggage to New York. He said he had been unexpectedly called away on business and had not had the time to call us before. The cleaners entered the room today to make it ready for a new occupant and discovered the child."

"Are you telling me that Tony had been left on his own all that time?"

"I fear so. It seems that he ordered food on room service who did not realise that his father was absent."

"How is he? Is he upset?"

"He seems remarkably unaffected by it all but I think he is relieved to have been found. He was beginning to be concerned about his father's well-being."

"And did Mr DiNozzo give any instructions about Tony?" asked Mary, trying to keep her anger in check.

"No ... only about his baggage."

Mary arranged for Tony to be put, with an escort, on a plane to Chicago and from there to the airport in Rhode Island. The hotel was more than happy to charge this all to Senior's credit card. Mary did think about reporting Mr DiNozzo to Child Services but in the end decided she just wanted Tony back near her. Tony was quite nonchalant when she met him at the airport and asserted that he had enjoyed having the pick of the room service menu and watching whatever he liked on TV. He did hold her hand, however, all the way back to the car.

Back in Mary's house, he told her all the 'amazing' things he and Senior had done and said that he had had 'a brilliant time.' Seeing that he was falling asleep over his hot chocolate, Mary put him to bed where he was soon out cold. In the early hours of the morning, Mary was woken up by a noise from Tony's room. She went in and found him crying softly.

"Tony, what's the matter?" she asked, sitting down on the bed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," came the hic-cuppy reply.

"It doesn't matter. What's wrong? You know you can tell me," said Mary rubbing his arm.

"I was scared. I didn't like being on my own – I didn't know how I was going to get home."

"Oh, Tony, it's all right now," reassured Mary, giving him a hug. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried louder. They stayed like that for a while until Tony seemed to calm down a bit.

"Mary, did I do something wrong that made Senior go away?" came a quiet voice.

If Mr DiNozzo had walked in at that moment, it is possible he would not have left it alive. Mary thought that she had probably never felt so angry in her life.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Poppet. Adults don't always do the right thing, that's all and I'm sure your father will be very sorry when he realises what he did."

Tony seemed to accept that but Mary often thought afterwards that the 'Maui' incident marked the beginning of Tony's disillusionment with his father. She could never bear to think what it had been like for the young Tony to have been left alone for all that time. Now she worried that the adult Tony was somewhere all alone, longing for someone to notice and come and get him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. She wiped her damp eyes and went to answer the door trying to squash the feeling of optimism that arose every time the bell sounded. She could picture Tony standing on the other side with an apologetic look on his face and a complicated tale to tell to explain the delay. She opened the door but only saw Gibbs there with someone she didn't recognise.

"Mrs Forrest, this is Director Leon Vance. He wanted to come and ask you something. May we come in?"

"Of course, please sit down."

"Director Vance, what do you want to ask me?"

"Mrs Forrest, you understand that normally we wouldn't be treating someone as missing after such a short period?" said the Director.

"But you think Tony is missing?" asked Mary. Gibbs answered,

"The last phone call from Tony was around midday on Saturday and there's been no activity on his cell since then. That's unusual for Tony, he lives on his phone. Then there's the missed appointment with you so we have cause for concern."

"And then there's Tony's 'history' which Agent McGee referred to?" asked Mary.

"Yes, people in our time of work can be vulnerable for all sorts of reasons," confirmed Gibbs.

"The other thing we have to consider," said the Director,” is whether Agent DiNozzo has left of his own accord."

"I don't understand," said Mary, "why would Tony choose to disappear?"

"The Director is suggesting that Tony has left because he has done something wrong and is trying to avoid being caught," said Gibbs. He saw Mary opening her mouth to protest and continued, "I don't like it any more than you do ... and I don't believe it either but the Director is right to consider it". Gibbs' team-mates would have been astonished to hear him being so diplomatic.

The Director nodded and continued, "I don't want to believe it either, Mrs Forrest. One of the standard things we do in cases like this is to run a financial background check to see if there is anything untoward". He drew out a bundle of papers. "I thought it would be best if I ran the check myself. I would normally ask the team leader to run such a check – this would keep it confidential – but ..."

"What the Director is trying to say is that I'm a bit out of practice of running financial checks. I usually get McGee to do them," said Gibbs.

"I found some unexpected things," said Vance, "and Agent Gibbs suggested you might be able to throw some light on them." Mary nodded and he continued. "Agent DiNozzo's main accounts are much as I would expect. But I also found another account linked to him under the name Anthony Paddington."

"That might be my fault," said Mary. She got up and went to the bookshelf and picked out one of Carl's Shakespeare books. She handed it to the Director and pointed out the names of the authors. "Tony writes a chapter on movies and modern stage productions for my husband's books. We thought it would be better for Tony to use his mother's name and we set up an account in that name to receive his share of the royalties."

"I see," said Vance, "and do your husband's books sell well?"

"They sell as well as you would expect text books to sell," replied Mary.

"I wouldn't expect them to sell enough to be putting thousands of dollars a year into the account," said Vance, "but the Paddington account has a great deal of money in it. Far more than can be explained by a Federal agent's salary and some royalties from a school text book. Is there anything we should be concerned about, Mrs Forrest?"

Mary was flummoxed for a few moments and then she remembered the letter she had just finished.

"Tony must have decided to put more of his money into the Paddington account. He ... er ... he had some suspicions that his father was accessing one of his accounts. It was easy enough for him to do it as they have the same name. He said that he might have to do something about that and I guess the other account was the answer."

"That doesn't explain the amount in the account," said Gibbs.

Mary hesitated but realised she needed to tell Gibbs and Vance the truth.

"Agent Gibbs, Director Vance, I'm going to tell you something that Tony didn't want people at NCIS to know about. May I ask that you respect his wishes if you can?"

"I can't make any promises," said the Director, "but the reason I did the check was to preserve confidentiality. I'm sure you know by now that Gibbs isn't much of a gossip."

Mary smiled, "Indeed! Very well. Agent Gibbs, you remember when Tony's Uncle Clive died a few years ago?"

"Sure, Tony got excited that he might be going to inherit a fortune but it turned out that he just got served with an IOU," remembered Gibbs.

"Tony didn't quite tell the truth about that," said Mary, "his uncle was very fond of Tony and left him half a million pounds in stocks and bonds". In other circumstances, Mary might have been amused at the look of astonishment on the faces of two men renowned for their poker faces. "I could contact Tony's accountant if you need this to be verified," she added.

"That would be helpful, Mrs Forrest, but I think this means that we don't have to be concerned about the account. Do you agree, Gibbs?"

Gibbs nodded, and said, "And don't worry, we won't spread the word around that Tony doesn't really need to be working for a living."

"But, Agent Gibbs," said Mary, "is there a possibility that Tony has been kidnapped because of the money or because someone thinks that his father is as wealthy as he seems to be?"

Gibbs considered his reply,

"I don't think Tony's been kidnapped. I think we would have heard by now, I don't think kidnappers would wait this long to demand a ransom. And, unless Mr DiNozzo has got the money to pay a ransom, the chances are that he would contact us for advice".

Mary nodded, unsure whether to be comforted by this or not. The Director rose to leave. He held out his hand to Mary,

"Mrs Forrest, I'm sorry that we had to meet in these circumstances. Oh, and please tell your husband, that my daughter is using his book on Romeo and Juliet ... we've  _both_  found it useful. I might have to ask Agent DiNozzo to provide tuition if she gets stuck! Gibbs, keep me updated."

Gibbs stayed a few minutes before following the Director.

"We're doing everything we can. We've got a BOLO out on Tony's car. If his cell phone has any activity, Abby will spot it. We're checking into people who may bear a grudge. My team is the best. I can't tell you not to worry but, who knows, he may yet just turn up with some lame-ass excuse!" He gripped her shoulder for a moment and was gone.

It was evening now and Mary couldn't settle to anything. She tried listening to the news but the stories seemed too close to home. She was just beginning to think she should prepare something to eat when the doorbell rang. Once again, squashing the sense of hope, she opened the door and found Agent McGee standing there.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs Forrest ... and don't worry, I haven't got any bad news ... I just wondered if you might like some company?"

Mary realised that, in fact, she did want some company – she so wished that Carl was not so far away.

"Of course, please come in, Agent McGee. I was about to get something to eat. Would you like something?"

"Well, actually, I thought you might not want to cook anything so I've brought us a couple of sandwiches from a deli that Tony's fond of".

Mary smiled. She decided that although Agent McGee might be a bit gaffe prone, his heart was most definitely in the right place.

"Tony came and kept me company one time when I was going through something difficult. I'm not sure I told him at the time but I really appreciated it," continued McGee.

NCISNCIS

McGee's visit brought some relief to Mary but he had to go back to the office and she was left alone to face the long hours of the night. She went to bed, deciding to rest even if she couldn't sleep. She got up early in the morning, baked a big batch of peanut cookies and took them to the Navy Yard.

The team looked tired but were pleased to see Mary and the cookies. Gibbs introduced Ziva who nodded pleasantly but who was obviously biding her time before making a judgement. Abby enveloped her in a hug, both giving and receiving comfort. Jimmy Palmer came up from Autopsy and gave her a shy smile.

Gibbs placed her at Tony's desk and asked the team to summarise what they had learned so far.

"We found Tony's car in the garage where he had left it to be serviced," said Ziva, "so now we know there is no point in keeping the BOLO out on it."

"Still no cell activity after midday on Saturday," said Abby.

"Wait, that can't be right," said Jimmy, "I had a call about 14.00."

"You must be mistaken, Jimmy," said Ziva, "Abby has monitored the cell closely."

"But which phone did you check?" asked Jimmy, "Did you check the other phone?"

"Do you mean to tell me that DiNozzo is pulling that spare phone stuff again?" growled Gibbs.

"No ... no," stammered Jimmy, "he broke the face on his usual phone so he took it in to be repaired. The shop lent him another phone so he wouldn't be out of contact. He phoned to let me know the number".

"And why would he phone you, and not us?" asked Ziva coolly.

"He didn't just phone me. He said he'd either phoned or left everyone a message. I was the only one who picked up."

"I've programmed my phone to reject any unrecognised numbers," groaned McGee.

"And you've programmed everyone else's to do the same," said Ziva.

"Doesn't matter now," said Gibbs, "Palmer, do you know what the number is?"

"I ...I'll go and get my cell," said Jimmy and hurried off.

"Abby, Tim, get on with tracing that cell," said Gibbs.

Mary smiled,

"You see, he didn't break your rule after all, Agent Gibbs."

There was a flurry of activity as the team went into action, their tiredness forgotten as they had something positive to do. Abby soon reported,

"OK. I think the phone is off now or run out of power. I don't think it was a very sophisticated model so it's been a bit harder than normal to find."

"Yes," said McGee, “we had to use a different methodology to normal but by cross referring cell towers ..."

"McGee," barked Gibbs, "just tell us what you found!"

"Yes, Boss, sorry Boss. Looks as if the calls that Tony made to us were on the road out to the Shenandoah National Park. It'll take a bit longer to track exactly where from."

"Why would Tony be driving out there?" asked Ziva, "and in what car?"

Gibbs' phone rang,

"Yeah, Gibbs. Can you tell her to come back another day? We're tied up. OK. Send her up." He turned to the others, "It's Mrs Cooper. Asking for Tony."

"Who is Mrs Cooper?" asked Ziva.

"Perhaps it's Josh Cooper's mother," suggested Mary. Ziva gave her a measuring look, trying to weigh up how much Tony's nanny knew about them. The elevator dinged to indicate a new arrival – it was indeed Josh Cooper's mom followed by Ducky who had heard about the new developments with Tony's phone.

"Agent Gibbs," she said, "is Agent DiNozzo here?"

Gibbs shook his head, "No, he's not. Why are you looking for him?"

"I was hoping he was here but I didn't think he would be. Oh dear," she paused in distress.

"Sit down, Mrs Cooper," said Gibbs, "tell us what's happened. We're looking for Tony too".

"My son, Josh – you remember Josh, don't you? Well, he and Tony have kept in touch and when Josh is at home they sometimes hang out together ... jazz concerts, movies – that sort of thing. Well, Josh has just got a new jeep ... not new, but new to him and he's doing it up. He'd just finished doing something to it and wanted to take it out for a test drive, he thought he'd go out to the Shenandoah National Park. Good long drive and some good rough tracks when he got there. I got a call Saturday night to say he'd been in some sort of accident and was in hospital. When I got there, he was out cold – he'd been found unconscious on a road inside the park. He came round yesterday afternoon but was still pretty out of it. Then yesterday evening he suddenly asked where Tony was."

"Tony?" asked Abby.

"Yes. It turns out that Josh met Tony in the mall and asked him if he'd like to go on the test drive with him. Said there might be a jazz gig nearby so they could do both. Tony said 'yes' and they went off. I think Josh's repairs might not have been as good as he thought, or his driving might not be as good as he thought but they ended up going off the road."

"Was Anthony all right?" asked Ducky.

"Josh said he seemed to be OK but he'd done something to his ankle and couldn't walk. They couldn't get a signal on their cells so couldn't call for help. Josh was a bit shaken but could walk and so he said he'd go and get help and come back. He's not sure what happened, whether he fell or passed out but he doesn't remember anything from when he left Tony".

"Head injuries can be tricky things," mused Ducky, "why I remember a case where ..."

"Ducky," said Gibbs, "another time."

"Of course, I do apologise. Mrs Cooper, please continue."

"I'm afraid there's not much to tell. Josh managed to tell us roughly where the jeep went off the road and the Park Rangers went and looked for it this morning and ..."

"... and?" asked Gibbs as she trailed off.

"And they found the jeep, a bit bashed up but there was no sign of Tony. They looked round but couldn't find any trace of him. That's why I came here. I half hoped he'd just made his own way back but I didn't think he'd have left without knowing what had happened to Josh."

Gibbs swung into action.

"Abby, keep working on that phone. McGee, get the truck ready. Ziva, contact the Park Rangers and get an update. Tell them we're on our way. Ducky, get Palmer, I think we may need you."

Mary stood up, feeling a new mixture of hope and anxiety. She didn't know what to do. Ducky spotted her.

"Ah, Mrs Forrest, I presume. We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Dr Donald Mallard – I believe we had a brief correspondence. I am pleased to meet you although obviously I would have preferred that it was under happier circumstances ..."

"Duck!" shouted Gibbs, "we're going."

"Of course. I fear I must leave you now, madam. We will hope for a good outcome. As I'm sure you know, Anthony is most resilient."

As Mary still stood there, Abby came up.

"I know, it's horrible being left behind. Would you like to come down to my lab, we can wait together. I'll introduce you to Major Mass Spec."

 


	13. Of Iguanas and Goldfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny references to 'Unsealed' and 'Friends and Lovers'. There isn't an episode called 'Of Iguanas and Goldfish' - I made that up!

Dear Mary

I think it's Sunday so that means I should be writing to you. I'm not sure where I am at the moment. I can't find the good writing paper or Mom's Parker pen so I hope you don't mind if I write in my notebook. It feels a bit like Camp but we always get to sleep indoors at Camp and I think I slept outside last night.

I can't find Kate either. I went looking in the river in case she was there but I fell in. I hope the iguana hasn't got her. Do iguanas eat Kates? I can't remember. McGoo will know.

I think I'm waiting for someone to come and get me. Is it you who's coming, or Gibbs? One of you always comes.

I haven't got a stamp so I don't know how I'm going to mail this. I don't know where the mail box is either. I'll go looking later but I don't feel too good right now and I'm a bit tired so I'll put this in a safe place for now.

I hope someone comes soon. Do you think Kate's cold in the river?

Love

Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary smiled a little sadly as she read the letter. Gibbs had found it in Tony's pocket and had brought it to her. She looked across to the hospital bed in which Tony lay sleeping restlessly. She felt his forehead and thought that perhaps it was slightly cooler than when he had first been brought in.

As promised, Abby had taken Mary down to her lab and introduced her to all her machines while still keeping an eye out for activity on Tony's 'other' phone. After a shorter time than Mary would have thought possible, Gibbs phoned to say that the team had arrived at the Park and were looking at the site around Josh's abandoned jeep.

"I'm sure Gibbs will find Tony," said Abby, "he's a great tracker and Tim is good in the outdoors too. And Ziva tells stories of her father taking her out into the woods and leaving her to find her own way home. So they're all experts."

Mary nodded and left unspoken her thought that Tony had now been out of contact for three nights. She saw that Abby had surreptitiously brought up the weather reports for those three nights and that they had shown rain for two of them and low temperatures on all of them.

"Tony is very resourceful," she said to Abby, "and sportsmen are used to carrying injuries. I remember when Tony was at OSU he used to come to see me and he'd be black and blue from a football game but he always shrugged it off."

Abby seemed grateful at her attempt at cheerfulness and gave a slightly forced smile.

"What was Tony like when he was a child?" she asked, "I mean, you don't have to give me any embarrassing stories or anything like that. I'd just like to know. I won't tell anyone, I promise, cross my heart and hope to die."

Mary looked at Abby and considered. There was something truthful in her eyes and Mary believed her when she said that she wouldn't take advantage of anything that Mary told her. Somehow, Mary thought that it would comfort them both to talk of someone they loved.

"Well, he was a rather solemn little boy when I first met him. He tended to take things rather seriously."

"Tony was serious? Wow!"

"At first, I thought it was because his mother had died just a few months before but I don't think that was the main reason. From what the house staff told me, his mother had been a rather quiet, serious woman and Tony took after her in that. He may get his looks from Mr DiNozzo and learned some personality traits from him but I think, in character, he's a lot like his mom. I tried to encourage him to have fun and not take things quite so much to heart."

"So was it you who taught him to play practical jokes?" asked Abby in awe.

"Not really, although I did tell him stories about my brother who was a great practical joker. I think it was boarding school that really brought that out in him – it gave him an outlet for his inventiveness!"

"I guess he wasn't always quiet and well behaved though," said Abby, "I remember him telling the story of getting kicked out of Cubs, or was it Scouts, for 'misbehaviour'."

Mary stiffened,

"It wasn't Tony who 'misbehaved'. His father went through a 'paternal' phase and used to take and collect Tony from the meetings. Unfortunately he used to flirt rather a lot with the mothers and it got rather uncomfortable, he called it 'scoring Brownie points'. In the end Tony decided he didn't want to go any more."

Abby remembered experiencing some of Senior's charms and she had rather enjoyed them. She thought a lot of other women might too but possibly a young child might have been embarrassed by them. She thought this was a subject best avoided.

"Tony's told us that he had great times at Camp. He said he was a pretty mean clogger."

Mary laughed,

"Oh dear. Miss Scuito, you must promise  _never_ to say this to Tony. He came back, so full of pride, from his first Camp and said that he'd won a prize for dancing. So, he put his clogs on and gave all the staff a demonstration. It was one of the funniest things I've ever seen: the clogs were too big for him and kept flying off and he'd run to put them back on and start again with such a serious expression on his face. We were all trying to keep a straight face and avoid looking at each other because we knew we'd just burst out laughing. Poor Tony!" She sighed.

"He'll be fine," said Abby, "he'll be fine", and gave Mary another hug.

NCISNCIS

As Mary and Abby tried to keep one another's spirits up, Gibbs and the rest of his team were joining in the search for Tony. The jeep was still there when they arrived and they were relieved to find no traces of blood which might indicate a serious injury. To the expert eye of the Park Ranger and Gibbs, there were signs that someone had rested for a while by the vehicle and this would fit with Josh's story that he had left Tony sitting against a tree while he went for help.

"I guess, when Josh didn't come back, he decided he needed to go after the boy," said Ziva.

"He'd have been worried that something had happened to him," agreed McGee.

"Do we know which way Josh went?" asked Gibbs.

The Park Ranger, Stuart Watson, gestured over towards the east.

"We found him on the road over there. We reckon they went off road for a few miles trying out the jeep so he had quite a trek to get back to a main track." Gibbs nodded,

"It makes sense then, that Tony would head out that way. What's the terrain like, Watson?"

"It's pretty rough. Hilly, some streams. Not easy walking. Thick woods too, easy to lose your way."

"Boss," called McGee, "over here."

Gibbs walked across to the tree against which they thought Tony had rested. McGee pointed,

"Looks as if a branch has been cut off. Do you think Tony was using it as a crutch?" Gibbs nodded,

"Good work, McGee. That might make it easier to track him. Let's go. Duck, are you all right to come with us?”

"Assuredly, Jethro. I think it will be best for both Mr Palmer and I to be there when we find our lost boy."

"Watson, do you want to search in the other direction in case we're wrong?" The Park Ranger agreed and they went their separate ways.

And so they searched. In places, the ground was soft because of the rain and they were able to pick up what they hoped were Tony's foot and crutch marks but elsewhere the rocky ground was reluctant to give any clues. Gibbs didn't want to rush and miss a vital clue so progress was slow.

"It's going to rain," said Ziva. At Gibbs' glare, she hastened to say, "I do not mean to suggest that we should stop looking but merely that I hope Tony is sheltered somewhere."

Shortly after that they came to the edge of a steep slope. As they peered over, they saw two sets of footprints, a larger set over a slightly smaller pair. Gibbs grunted,

"Think this is where Josh went down – you can see the broken twigs where he went down."

"Tony wouldn't have tried to follow him, would he? Not with his damaged leg?" asked Jimmy anxiously.

"No," said Gibbs, "there's no sign of that," he looked down at the ground and realised that there were tracks going off in both directions, "it looks as if Tony went off once and must have come back again and gone in the other direction. I can't tell which was the later."

"Should we split up," asked Ziva, "we could half the search time?"

Gibbs nodded,

"McGee, you and Ziva go with Palmer. Duck, you come with me. Report in every thirty minutes over the radio."

An hour later McGee, Ziva and Palmer found themselves back at the starting point. Tony seemed to have doubled back when he failed to find a way down the slope. McGee called Gibbs on the radio,

"Boss, we're back where we started. We think we found where Tony sheltered one night – a bit of a hollow under a tree."

"OK," said Gibbs, "come and join us. Follow the tracks – keep an eye out in case we missed anything."

"On it, Boss," said McGee, "on our way."

When they caught up with Gibbs and Ducky, Gibbs told them that they also had found a place where it looked as if Tony might have rested another night.

"Looks as if there lots of berries and stuff here, Boss," said McGee, "Tony may have found something to eat all right."

Gibbs nodded and they resumed their search. The ground began to go down steeply and they came to a river. When they got there they saw an overhanging tree which looked as if a branch had snapped off.

"Another crutch?" wondered Ziva aloud. Gibbs shook his head,

"No, I think Tony was holding on to a branch to look out over the river. It snapped off."

"My word," said Ducky, "do you think he fell in?" Gibbs looked down the bank,

"Might have done. There's a place down there that looks as if someone climbed out. Come on."

In the end, it was rather anti-climactic. They were beginning to lose the light but were determined to keep going for as long as possible. They had continued to follow the river and when they went round a bend they saw Tony in front of them. He was sitting down, legs out straight in front of him and leaning against a tree. He waved and smiled when he saw them approaching. Gibbs' felt a huge sense of relief followed by an irrational flash of annoyance that Tony should seem to be fine after all their anxiety. He ran up to his Senior Field Agent.

"Hey, Boss. Nice to see you," came Tony's cheerful voice.

Gibbs peered at him through the gathering gloom and restrained himself from delivering a head slap when he saw that Tony's eyes were slightly unfocussed.

"How you doing there, Tony?" he asked.

"I'm fine," came the characteristic reply. "I lost Kate, have you seen her?"

"Kate's at home, in her bowl," said Gibbs soothingly. Tony shook his head vigorously,

"No, she's in the river. Boss ..."

"Yes, DiNozzo?"

"Why did you bring an iguana with you? I don't like iguanas. Hey, McGoo ... you'll know. Do iguanas eat Kates?"

McGee looked confused. Ducky stepped up,

"Oh dear, I'm afraid he's a bit out of it. Let's take a look. Mr Palmer, bring my bag over. Jethro, I think we're going to need some help getting Anthony out."

NCISNCIS

Ducky decreed that Tony should be taken straight to the Walter Reed hospital rather than being taken to a more local one. McGee phoned Abby to tell her that Tony had been found and was on his way to hospital and she and Mary made their way there. They all met up in the waiting room.

"Dr Pitt is examining Tony now," said Ducky when Abby and Mary arrived. "Anthony appears to have a badly twisted ankle; I fear walking on it has not helped. He was running a fever when we reached him – not surprising as he seems to have been out in the open since the accident and the weather was not kind. I listened to his lungs before he was transported here and they sounded mostly clear, possibly a couple of crackles which is why I asked Dr Pitt to be involved. All in all, I would say he is in better condition than we might have expected."

At that moment, the door opened and a nurse came in.

"Next of kin for Tony DiNozzo?"

"Yes," came two voices as both Mary and Gibbs spoke up. They looked at each other and smiled. The nurse said,

"Would you follow me, please? Dr Pitt is in Special Agent DiNozzo's room and will see you there." Gibbs and Mary followed him along the corridor.

They found Dr Pitt standing at the foot of Tony's bed, looking at his chart.

"Ah, Agent Gibbs, we meet again," he said. He looked at Mary questioningly.

"This is Mrs Miriam Forrest," said Gibbs, "also named as Tony's next of kin".

"Not Miriam, Mary," came a slurred voice before Dr Pitt could say anything.

"I see you're coming back to us, Tony," he said, but Tony had fallen asleep again. "As you can see, Tony's not completely with it, he's a bit delirious. I think he's got something like flu which is better than we might have expected. We'll need to keep him here until the fever goes down and I want to keep an eye on him just to make sure those pesky lungs don't cause any problems. But I'm optimistic".

"And what about his ankle?" asked Gibbs.

"Twisted and pulled," said the doctor, "he'll need to stay off it for a few days – which won't be a problem because I think he'll be in bed for a while. He's pretty exhausted and de-hydrated which is why we've got a drip running. On the whole, though, he's been pretty lucky and just needs some good old fashioned nursing care."

Mary privately thought that the Navy and NCIS had a rather strange definition of 'luck' if they thought being stranded in the open for three nights unable to walk was lucky. She didn't say anything, however, but went to stand by Tony's bed. She put her hand on his forehead and then held his hand. Gibbs brought a chair over for her.

"Why don't you take the first watch?" he said, "but the others may want to come in and have a look."

Mary nodded gratefully and settled in to watch over Tony. As she sat down, and before Gibbs left the room, Tony's eyes opened,

"I knew you'd come," he said, and then he was gone again.

 


	14. Agent Afloat

Dear Mary

My second Sunday as Agent Afloat on the Ronald Reagan. What can I say? The sky is grey, the sea is grey and the ship is grey and my mood is ... grey.

I'm trying to look on the bright side (and trying not to think where  _that_  gets sung in the Monty Python film 'cos that's even more depressing). Captain Dickens is a good commander – a more smiley version of Gibbs. I'm kept busy – not with anything interesting, of course. No, Anthony, positive thoughts, positive thoughts. Channel your inner Abby. I'm learning lots about aircraft carriers and I'll never get lost on one again. You could put me anywhere on the Reagan, show me a serial number on a bulkhead and I'd know where I was – that's got to come in handy some time.

Abby sends me lots of cards and tells me she's set up a Tony shrine in her lab like the one she had for Gibbs when he jaunted off to Mexico to frolic with Franks. Probie sends me emails full of techno jargon about what he's getting up to in Cyber land – I think he's reverting without me to keep him on the straight and narrow. A couple of terse messages from Ziva who seems to be back in Mossad mode. Gibbs managed to work out how to send an email and transmitted a virtual head slap over the airwaves to the sea waves. It's quite touching really. And thank you for the box of peanut cookies – they set off a few security alarms because the sensor was tuned for peanuts instead of almonds, but never mind.

Of course, the person I really want to hear from is Director Vance telling me that all is forgiven and I can come back because he realises that the Agency can't function without me. Hah! I think this ocean will freeze over first. I've been studying the regs since I've been on board and it turns out that I was entitled to much more notice about coming on board. Twenty four hours to turn your life around is plain ridiculous and it shows that my head was really screwed that I let him do it.

There's not much night life here apart from breaking up illegal gambling sessions and busting hooch stills. I know I should be trying to improve my mind by reading my way through the library – hey, I could start working on that doctorate Carl is always trying to plug. But I can't concentrate on anything once I stop working. I keep going over what happened with Jenny – which I can't tell you about because it's classified. On paper I did the right thing – obeyed my Director's orders, did what I was told for once in my life ... and it all went to hell. I don't know what Gibbs thinks about it all and I can't ask him – always assuming I could ever have found the right moment! I think that's one of the hardest things about having been sent away – there's nobody to talk to about the thing I most need to talk about.

Sorry, this isn't making much sense. I'll be all right, I promise. At least I can't do much damage here and, in theory, Agent Afloat is a good career move but somehow I don't think that's why Vance sent me here.

I'm going to go for a prowl round the decks – it's a bit like being back in Peoria except I'm the entire police force.

Give my love to Kate – I hope she's not missing me too much.

Ciao

Tony.

NCISNCIS

Mary put the letter back in its envelope and looked across to where Tony slept a bit more peacefully. She had stayed a few hours at the hospital the evening before and listened to some of his mumblings. She had then gone back to the apartment and picked out some of the letters he had written first from the Ronald Reagan and then from the Sea Hawk.

She had returned to the hospital early in the morning to take over from Gibbs who was going back to the Navy Yard.

"Docs gave him something to make him sleep a bit easier and bring his temperature down," he reported, "They say it's a matter of waiting for it come down properly."

Mary hesitated,

"He seemed to be talking about his time as Agent Afloat last night," she said, "it seemed to be worrying him. Can you think why he's thinking about that now?" she asked.

Gibbs shrugged, "It was a difficult time for him. He didn't like being there although he did a good job".

"He's had other difficult times," said Mary, "I just wondered why he was talking about that one – unless he talked about anything different while you were here?"

"No, like I said, he slept a bit more deeply after they slipped something into his IV".

Mary didn't want to betray any of Tony's confidences but she thought this might be important,

"I re-read some of Tony's letters from his time at sea and I'll have another look at them. He couldn't give me any details but something was really bothering him while he was away and I think it was made worse because he couldn't talk to anyone about it on board. Did he talk about it when he was posted back to Washington?"

Gibbs thought for a moment,

"Don't think we did. He seemed OK and we just got on with it."

"Seems to be your motto, Agent Gibbs – or is it a rule?"

"Not just  _my_  motto, Mrs Forrest, I think it's engrained in Tony somewhere," replied Gibbs a little tetchily. He had left shortly afterwards leaving Mary to ponder Tony's ramblings of the night before. In his mind he had seemed to link being on his own in the cold and wet, unable to move easily with feeling abandoned on the ships. The physical loneliness had brought back memories of his mental loneliness aboard ship and he had muttered that it was all punishment. When his ramblings distressed him most, Mary had held his hand or put her hand on his forehead and that physical touch had seemed to calm and reassure him for a while.

A couple of hours later, Ducky arrived to check on the patient.

"Ah, Mrs Forrest, how is Anthony today?"

"Dr Mallard, please call me Miriam," said Mary.

"I would be delighted," said Ducky, "and I hope you will call me ..."

"Forgive me, but I don't think I could call you 'Ducky'", said Mary apologetically.

"No, indeed. I would be delighted if you would call me 'Donald': so few people do now". Ducky helped himself to Tony's notes and tutted and clucked as he read them. "Hmmm, it seems there has been a slight improvement and he seems to have had a restful night."

"Donald, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Miriam. How can I help?"

"Last night, Tony was rambling a lot. It was a bit hard to catch what he was saying but I think he was reliving his time as Agent Afloat and equating it with being lost and in pain over the last few days," explained Mary. "He couldn't talk to me about the circumstances which led to that posting – do you know if he was ever able to talk to anyone about it at NCIS?"

Ducky considered how to reply, "It was a difficult time for everyone and the splitting up of the team happened very abruptly and then came to an end equally abruptly. I think everyone was so relieved to be back together that we ..."

"... just got on with it," finished Mary. "I think Tony believes Agent Gibbs blames him for something and it still preys on his mind. I don't know Agent Gibbs well enough to suggest this, but if he  _doesn't_  blame Tony for anything I think he should tell him so."

"It was a long time ago," said Ducky, "and there have been many occasions since then when Jethro has demonstrated, usually in a rather unorthodox manner, his approval and trust of Anthony."

"Nevertheless," said Mary, "it seems to be on Tony's mind".

"If you wish, I will mention this to Jethro," began Ducky.

"No need," said Gibbs making one of his sudden appearances, "I'll take care of it. I guess I should have made it clear right from the beginning."

Ducky grinned and said, in a loud whisper to Mary, "and that dear lady, is as near to an apology as you will ever hear from Jethro."

Tony stirred at that moment and looking a bit puzzled.

"Hi, er ... how did I get here? And where's here?"

"What do you remember?" asked Gibbs.

"I was at the mall ... took my cell in to be repaired. Called you all to let you know the temporary number. Met Josh ... Boss, why's there an iguana on that chair?"

"He's out of it again," sighed Gibbs, "and those damned iguanas are back. I lost count of the times I had to pretend to scare them away last night until they upped his drugs."

Mary stifled a giggle at the thought of Gibbs diligently frightening non-existent reptiles out of Tony's room but her heart was warmed at the thought of his care. She turned as she heard someone entering the room.

"Hi, Tony,"

"McTimmy," said Tony happily and then, in a less happy tone, "watch out for the iguana, I think they eat Kates and they might eat Tims too".

"Not to worry, Tony," said McGee, "I've brought you something to help with the ... er … iguana problem." He produced a battered cell phone out of his pocket and attached a spiral of wires to it. "Just press this button when you see an iguana and this will emit a high frequency signal which only iguanas can hear and which they hate. They'll soon leave you alone. Here, try it". He handed the phone to Tony who carefully pressed speed dial #1. Everyone waited a little tensely.

"It worked, McGenius," said Tony in a relieved voice, "Iggy didn't look very happy but he's gone". Still clutching the phone in his hand, he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep. Gibbs and Ducky looked at McGee approvingly.

"Well done, Tim," said Mary. McGee blushed with pleasure, relieved that Mary had finally called him something other than Agent McGee. He hoped he was beginning to be forgiven for programming the cells to ignore unrecognised numbers.

As Tony stayed sleeping, Ducky, Gibbs and McGee returned to the Navy Yard promising to return later. Mary stayed where she was, keeping Tony company. Gibbs and Ducky came back in the late afternoon

"His temperature is lower and he's been sleeping quite peacefully. He was awake a little while ago and a bit anxious about Josh so I told him what happened. He seems better than he was," Mary reported. Ducky then took her off to criticise the tea in the hospital canteen and for 'a good catch-up, dear lady, about the British Isles'. Gibbs took Mary's place and waited to see if Tony would wake up. His wait was rewarded after about thirty minutes when Tony's eyes opened and Gibbs could see that they were focussed and clear. He thought they had seen the last of the iguanas for a while.

"Hey, Boss," he said a little sleepily.

"Hey," returned Gibbs, "how are you feeling?"

"It's all a bit fuzzy. Mary told me what happened but I don't remember much about anything after Saturday afternoon. It just feels like a long nightmare that doesn't make much sense. I hope you don't want me to write a report 'cos it'd be a short one".

For a moment, Gibbs considered not keeping his promise to Mary and Ducky but he rejected that thought.

"Tony, I thought I made it clear to you that I don't blame you for what happened to Jenny. You followed her orders and she did what she wanted to do – you just got caught up in the machinery."

Tony looked puzzled. "Boss, why are we talking about this? Has my temperature gone up again or something?"

Gibbs rested his hand on Tony's forehead.

"No, you're fine. Mrs Forrest said you were rambling last night about when you were on the Ronald Reagan. She seemed to think that you were worried about something and that it might still be on your mind."

Gibbs looked searchingly at Tony whose eyes closed briefly as he seemed to remember the time of his exile. Gibbs wondered if Mary had been mistaken and that he had just raked up unhappy memories for nothing. Tony seemed to swallowed,

"Thanks, Boss. Like I said, I don't remember much about the last few days but I do remember feeling lonely and abandoned – I guess that's what those weeks on the Reagan felt like. It was bad enough having to be there but the thought that I'd let people ... let  _you_  down was the worst thing. And I couldn't talk to anyone about it thanks to the Director classifying everything. It all seemed to go round and round in my head getting louder and louder but there was nowhere for it to go."

"You should have said something", said Gibbs.

Tony laughed, "Yeah, we don't really do things like that, do we, Gibbs? Let's just say you didn't grunt loudly enough this time or I didn't come round for cowboy steak at the right time ..."

"... or I didn't knock your heads together soon enough", said Ducky coming into the room with Mary, "forgive us, we weren't eavesdropping but we couldn't help but hear and it would be dishonest to pretend that we hadn't".

The three men looked at each other and nodded, apparently feeling everything had been said which needed to be said. Mary had to assume that they had worked things out to  _their_  satisfaction, at least. Tony changed the subject,

"Boss, why's that old cell phone on my locker?" Ducky opened his mouth to explain, but Tony went on before he could say anything,

"And when can I go home?"

Mary laughed, Things were definitely getting back to normal.

 


	15. Requiem

Dear Mary

I've just written a letter resigning from NCIS. I've had enough.

Thank you for letting me stay over the weekend – sorry I wasn't better company. Thank you for putting up with me and thank you to Carl for letting me ruin his weekend.

See Mary, three thankyous – that wasn't difficult was it? I mean I know he's got a rule about apologies but I never realised he had a rule about not saying thank you. When McGee hauled me up from the multi storey car park a couple of weeks ago, the first thing I said was 'thank you'. I might also have told him I loved him and would have his babies if he wanted. You get my drift. I was grateful. I said thank you. It's what people do. Well, it's what  _normal_ people do.

I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, he has all these rules and just breaks them. I don't know how many he broke over the last few days ... not screwing over your team, being unreachable. Still, he hasn't broken rule 6 because he certainly hasn't apologised, at least not to me.

I'm sorry for ranting, Mary – see I don't have a problem with apologies either. I don't like admitting I'm wrong any more than most people, but I do it if I have to. I don't think that's just how you brought me up, it just seems right.

I got back to the apartment tonight half expecting to find a message on the answer machine – nope, zilch. OK, perhaps he was going to come and round and see that I was all right ... idiot that I am, I actually put a pot of rotgut coffee on to brew and cracked open a bottle of bourbon. So, the coffee went cold and I put the bourbon back – untouched, don't worry. I phoned Ducky just to make sure Gibbs was OK – hadn't had a relapse after being pulled unconscious and unbreathing from the harbour. See, I was still worried about him.

"Oh no, Anthony," said Ducky, "no need to worry. Jethro is fine – he was a bit tired but a good night's sleep set him to rights." And then Ducky went on to ask how  _I_ was, had I taken the antibiotics Brad prescribed, had I rested as he advised, had I used the inhalers as Brad told me? Had I gone to stay with someone so they could keep an eye on me to ensure I didn't go down with some other medieval disease that had been lying in wait in that murky water? And he warned me, rather sternly for Ducky, that he had put a note on my file to say that I was to be on desk duty for a week as a precaution.

So I sat here with Kate although I'm a bit off watching something swimming under water all the time ... and I decided that I've had enough. I can get a job somewhere else with normal people. I'll miss McGeek (although I suspect I'll be visiting him in prison soon if anyone looks really closely at his hacking). I'll miss my ninja too – especially as she's progressing nicely in her acclimation to America – I like to feel I've played my part in introducing her to the nuances of American culture. And Abby will cry, the Autopsy Gremlin's chin will wobble and Ducky may be lost for words. But a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I'll give the letter to Gibbs tomorrow.

I think Kate would send her love. Like I said, I'm a bit off water at the moment so I'm not sitting close to her.

Thanks again ... feels good to me to say that.

Love

Tony.

NCISNCIS

Mary smiled as she re-read the letter. She wondered how many letters Tony had written to Gibbs and never sent. She remembered one after Gibbs had returned from Mexico and she suspected there were more. Clearly the resignation letter had never been delivered, she wondered why.

Tony was on his way to spend a couple of days with her: it was a 'condition' of his release from hospital that he stay with someone who could keep an eye on him. It was similar to the situation after he had rescued Gibbs and Maddie from the submerged car when Tony's medical friends had prescribed a watchful eye. It was that similarity which had made Mary go back and re-read the angry letter.

She remembered that weekend. Tony had been uncharacteristically low spirited and silent. When Mary heard the story of his bravery she had felt a mixture of emotions. Pride that he had done so well. Horror that he had put himself in such a dangerous position. Following so soon after the escapade in the garage which had left him dangling from a great height, she had begun to wonder if she should start sending him adverts for job vacancies as gym teachers. She was sure his job wasn't meant to be so dangerous but she reflected that Tony would probably find peril lurking in a school gym as well. She had been glad that he had come to stay – if she'd heard about it all in his usual Sunday letter she would have worried even more; at least she'd had a chance to see him and judge for herself how he really was.

The doorbell rang signalling that her guest had arrived. She opened the door to find Tony standing there with Ziva beside him. He raised a hand to prevent her speaking,

"Don't worry, I haven't had a relapse. If I look green it's because Ziva drove and she seemed to think there was a danger of intercontinental ballistic missiles being fired at us from the cars on the beltway. I need to sit down," he finished, a little petulantly and he sat down with a dramatic sigh on the chair by the telephone.

"Mrs Forrest," said Ziva, "I assure you that I drove very carefully with my  _precious_  cargo. If Tony is looking green it is because he insisted on stopping for two donuts and hot chocolate with whipped cream."

"A man's gotta eat what a man's gotta eat," declared Tony, surreptitiously wiping his mouth in case he still had a chocolate moustache.

"Thank you, Agent David," said Mary, "are you staying? I could make us all another drink," she cast a mischievous look at Tony, "Tony might like a peppermint tea to calm his stomach."

Tony gave her a disgusted look and Ziva laughed,

"That is very kind, but I have to return to work. Gibbs will be wondering where I am."

"And McGee will be getting nervous that he has to brave the Gibbs on his own. You'd better take  _him_ a peppermint tea to settle  _his_  stomach," added Tony.

"I am sure that McGee will be fine," said Ziva, "I will see you later, Tony. It was nice to see you again, Mrs Forrest."

"Thank you for delivering Tony," said Mary.

"Hey, I'm not a parcel," protested Tony. Ziva patted him on the head and left. As the door closed behind her, Mary noticed that Tony breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed: she realised that sometimes Tony's cheerful face took a lot of energy and that perhaps he had really needed to sit down as soon as he got through the door. She didn't say anything, however, knowing that he had had enough of being fussed over for the moment.

"I'll go and make you some ordinary tea. Go and sit down on the couch and put your leg up like you promised Dr Pitt you would". Tony hobbled over on his crutches and Mary went into the kitchen to make the tea. She wasn't surprised to find he'd fallen asleep by the time she came back.

NCISNCIS

Tony had woken up in time for lunch, his appetite apparently not affected by hot chocolate and donuts. After they had eaten and after Tony had phoned his apartment block to check on Kate's welfare, Mary decided to ask him about the resignation letter.

"I've just re-read the letter you sent me after you rescued Agent Gibbs from drowning. You know, the one where you said you were resigning."

Tony laughed, "Another one of the letters I've never actually mailed."

"How many are there?" asked Mary, momentarily distracted.

"Lots," said Tony, "sometimes it helps to get it out of my system."

"Have you still got them?"

"Most of them. Not sure why I keep them. Sometimes I look at the pile and think why am I still here? Other times I look at them and think, 'look, you've been through this before and survived, you can do it again'."

"I remember, when I first read that letter, I really thought you were going to leave," said Mary.

"I know. You phoned me that night to see when I was going to be unemployed," said Tony.

"And you said you hadn't got round to handing in the letter," said Mary.

"Still haven't got round to it," laughed Tony.

"What happened that day?" said Mary, "you didn't really explain it. Did Gibbs say something to you?"

"No," said Tony. "He just carried on as normal. He might not have head slapped me so much and he didn't sneer when I put sugar in my hazelnut latte."

Mary began to feel angry on Tony's behalf. "Then why did you stay?" she asked in some bewilderment.

"Because I walked in. Saw him sitting there. He looked up and nodded at me and I just felt so happy that he was alive, that it sort of swept everything away for a moment. Don't get me wrong, all that anger came back almost immediately but I couldn't forget that sense of relief washing over me, that sense of being happy to see him; it made me realise how important he was to me, so I stayed."

"It doesn't seem enough," said Mary, still puzzled.

"No, it doesn't," agreed Tony. "I think working with Gibbs is a bit of an art form. You know, that modern art that doesn't seem to make much sense ... abstract lines and shapes that sometimes almost seem to join up and mean something but most of the time don't? Well, that's Gibbs. And besides, the drowning thing? I've developed a theory from my years of Gibbs watching. I think he genuinely didn't know  _how_  to react. Somewhere in his head, he thinks of himself as the rescu _er_  ... he couldn't cope with being the rescu _ee_ and so he sort of ignored it and hoped it would go away. And it did. It's not glorious but it's Gibbs and most of the time what you get is good. Now, I think there's a game on. Do you mind if we watch it?"

Mary nodded, realising that the topic was closed ... for now.

 


	16. Bait

Dear Mary

Sorry if the writing's a bit wobbly – I haven't slept very well the last couple of nights. Been having a few nightmares.

Did you see the news about the kid holding his class hostage, threatening to blow them up? Well, that was our last case and the reason I've been having nightmares. 'A federal agent was also taken hostage' – HAH, that was Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs walking into the classroom and  _letting_  himself be taken. It's probably nearer the truth to say that the poor kid (Kody) was forced to take him hostage. Oh, and Gibbs didn't think to mention to me that he was going to get taken ... oh no, 'cos that would have been  _sensible_ , that would be thinking like a  _team_ –  _that_  would have been acting completely out of character! You know, Mary, I never used to use this many exclamation points when I was in Peoria. Gibbs brings them out in me.

I am, once again, trying to find the positive in all this. Gibbs trusted me to know what he was up to and to step up to the mark – and I did and it all worked out fine but does he have to work like that? Couldn't we  _discuss_ things sometimes? Sometimes I just want to head slap HIM for a change.

It was all a bit 'uncomfortable' for other reasons too. Kody and his dad thought that Kody's mom was dead, so Kody was trying to deal with that and not doing too well. He thought he'd seen her in the street, that sort of thing. It made me remember when Mom died – I didn't believe it, didn't want to believe it, I guess. Couldn't understand why nobody wanted to talk about her anymore, why her clothes and stuff all disappeared. So, I sort of knew where Kody was coming from although he's older than I was.

Then, of course, thanks to Gibbs I was left in charge of running the scene and possibly giving the order to shoot the kid. Let's just say that the women around me weren't very 'supportive' – they both assumed I wouldn't have the guts to do it. Like I said, I'd done it before – I just didn't want to do it again.

The others think it all worked out either because I channelled my inner Gibbs or because I remembered a movie ... it doesn't seem to occur to them that perhaps I channelled my inner  _DiNozzo_ or that it takes brains to apply something you've seen in a movie. Perhaps they're right. In the end I guess it doesn't matter. The kids are all safe, Gibbs is OK and, it turns out, Kody's Mom isn't dead after all. All's well, except for me because I keep re-living the moment I could have given the order to blow Kody's brains out ... and the time I did give that order.

I'm sorry for ranting ... again! (Whoops, another exclamation point). Writing it all down does help, perhaps I won't mail this one to you. If you hear of me being arrested in a few days' time, it'll probably because I've given in and head slapped Gibbs.

Kate is waving one of her fins ... looks almost as if she's practising a head slap of her own. Or perhaps she's waving to you ... (resisted an exclamation point there). I'm sure she sends her love, as do I.

Ciao

Tony

NCISNCIS

After talking to Tony about the ‘resignation that never was’, Mary had looked back through her ‘archive’ of letters for others where Gibbs had infuriated Tony.  Mary put the ‘Kody’ letter back in its envelope and thought back to the time in Baltimore when Tony had found himself with the unlooked-for responsibility of holding people's lives in his hands.

Tony had come, as expected, for Friday night pizza bearing beer and a dazzling smile. Mary had been suspicious of the smile: she thought she knew all of Tony's smiles but this was a new one and something about it wasn't right. She held her peace, however, and waited to see if Tony would say anything.

Tony had got through one slice of pizza when his hands began shaking uncontrollably. He tried to carry on as normal but suddenly dropped the slice and rushed out of the room to the bathroom. Carl and Mary heard him throwing up. They waited a couple of minutes until all was quiet again and then Mary went and tapped on the bathroom door.

"Are you OK, Tony? Can I come in"? There was no reply so, after a moment or two, Mary tried the door and went in. Tony was sitting by the toilet, looking as if he didn't trust himself to move too far away.

"Sorry," he said and wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. Mary got him a glass of water which he took with a shaky hand.

"Something you ate?" asked Mary, giving him a chance to avoid talking about it if he wanted. Tony shook his head,

"No, wish it was".

"What happened?"

"Ricky took me out with him today, plain clothes."

Mary nodded. Ricky Sullivan was a detective with the Baltimore Police Department who seemed to think Tony had potential. He was encouraging Tony to apply to become a detective himself and had taken him out on some low key surveillance work to get experience.

"We followed this kid who Ricky thought might be dealing or running drugs but something spooked him. It wasn't anything we did – a patrol car went by with its siren going and the kid jumped, looked round and saw us behind him. Just a coincidence, bad luck ... that's what Ricky says. So the kid, Lenny, takes off and we go after him". Tony paused to take another gulp of water. Mary sat on the edge of the bath and waited.

"We chased him for ages, down all these alleys, then across a park and then, then he ran into a school yard. We heard him shouting and some kids and a teacher yelling and then there was a shot. We didn't know he was carrying."

"Were any of the children hurt?" asked Mary.

"No, think he just fired in the air. To get our attention – he sure did that. We stopped at the gate and aimed our weapons at him, Ricky yelled at him to put the gun down but Lenny just waved it around a bit. I think he was out of it. And then ..."

"Yes?" asked Mary.

"He ... he ...er … he shot Ricky."

Mary gasped in horror and reached out to touch Tony, suddenly needing to reassure herself that he was there.

"So Ricky went down. Lenny grabbed a kid and held him against him and told everyone to calm down. That's almost a joke, he was the wildest one there. He told me to put my gun down and sit down with my hands over my head".

"And what did you do?" asked Mary.

"I did what he told me. First rule of BPD is do what the guy with the gun tells you to. Besides I knew that the sound of the gunshots would get reinforcements there. So I did what he told me and tried to calm him down, get him to let the children go but it didn't work. I did manage to get him to talk a bit – he wouldn't talk about why he ran or anything but he would talk about 'Magnum'."

"'Magnum'?" said Mary, puzzled.

"Don't ask me how we got on to that," said Tony, "it's a bit of a blur. Seems he used to watch it when he was a kid ... seemed to be the only happy memory he had. I thought we were bonding a bit. That's what they tell you to do, you know. Anyway, we'd been talking for a few minutes but it was still edgy, the kid he was holding was crying and it was getting on Lenny's nerves but he wouldn't let him go. The other kids were crying too." Tony took another sip of water, his hand was shaking less now.

"Then we heard this voice coming over a bullhorn. It was the captain, but Lenny wouldn't talk to him. He'd only talk to me, because of this 'Magnum' link".

"And what about Ricky?" asked Mary.

"He was still unconscious, I could see that he was still breathing but he was losing a lot of blood. I knew we didn't have much time but I couldn't risk jumping Lenny because he still had the kid. Then the captain shouted out to me, "Hey, DiNozzo, how's Sullivan doing?" And I shouted back, "It's not Sullivan, it's Mackenzie.""

"I thought Ricky's surname  _is_ Sullivan," said Mary, thinking she'd missed something.

"It is. The next thing I knew, there was this bang and Lenny was down on the ground and the kid he'd been holding was screaming blue murder. I ran up and grabbed him. Lenny was just lying there, his eyes were open but he was dead ..."

"What happened?" asked Mary.

"Sniper had got him, clean shot in the head". Tony finished the water and went on, "I gave the signal".

"How?"

"Chris Mackenzie was a patrol officer – she was shot last year by a gunman running from a holdup. Mackenzie is a code word. If we're given a chance in a hostage situation to give a name, we use Mackenzie if we think it's time to go for the kill. So I did, and Lenny died. I had to do it, Mary, Ricky was bleeding out, the children were getting hysterical and Lenny was out of control. I know it was the right thing to do ... but I wish I hadn't had to do it". He buried his face in his hands and sat there for some time. Mary sat there with him, wondering if there was anything she could say.

"Thanks, Mary," said Tony after some minutes had passed.

"For what?" asked Mary.

"For being there," said Tony, "just for being there, and for listening."

"Hey," said Carl, putting his head round the door, "you two coming out any time soon? Pizza's gone cold and the game'll be on soon." Mary and Tony looked at him gratefully, he seemed to have chosen the perfect moment to come in and break the tension. Carl offered Tony his hand to help him off the floor and they went back to finish the pizza and beer.

When Mary read the newspaper account the next day, she learned that Tony had been modest about his part in the incident. The teacher told the journalist how wonderful Tony had been in trying to keep everyone calm and how quickly he had acted once Lenny had gone down, to get the hostage away from the body. Tony got a commendation and soon became a detective but Mary noticed that he also got another bit sadness around his eyes and knew that he had nightmares for weeks afterwards.

So when Mary re-read the letter she could imagine what sort of memories Kody had revived for Tony. At that moment, the doorbell rang,

"That'll be Gibbs," said Tony. "I'll go."

Gibbs was coming to collect Tony who, after a couple of days staying with Mary, was now judged fit enough to go back to his own apartment. Ducky had diligently listened to his chest and decided that they were now completely clear after his illness. The ankle was still painful, however, and he was on crutches and unable to drive. He would be able to go back to work soon but would be on desk duty for a couple of weeks. Mary's car was in the garage so Gibbs had agreed to come and collect Tony.

Gibbs was clearly in a hurry,

"Come on, DiNozzo. You've had all morning to get your gear ready. Get a move on", he grumbled. Tony finally put everything in his bag, looked round for his crutches, picked up a magazine and a DVD and then stopped to kiss Mary goodbye. Gibbs hadn't witnessed their traditional farewell – 'a kiss on each cheek and one for luck' and gave an exasperated huff,

"DiNOZZO!"

Who knows why Mary did it, perhaps it was reading Tony's letter ... but suddenly her hand shot out and she slapped Gibbs on the back of his head. Time seemed to stand still. Tony's mouth dropped open in complete astonishment: Mary had _never_  slapped him. Mary looked horrified – her hands shot to her mouth in shock. And Gibbs? Gibbs grinned, leaned forward and kissed Mary on the cheek.

"Come on, DiNozzo," he said in a gentler tone.

Tony hobbled after him, wondering if anyone would ever believe him if he told them what he had seen. Mary went and made herself a cup of tea and then burst out laughing.

 


	17. Silent Night

Dear Mary

I'm sorry I didn't make it for Christmas Day – I really thought that it would work out this time. We caught a case but it looked as if it was going to be sorted out in time but then 'complications' arose and the shut case flew open again and Christmas plans flew out of the window with it.

It turned out to be a bit of a Christmas miracle. Long lost marine re-united with daughter and grandchild and, who knows, they may live happily ever after. Abby got to meet Santa Claus. Oh, and I introduced the team to the DiNozzo family tradition of mulled cider, caramel popcorn and 'It's a Wonderful Life'. I'm not sure if the movie looked better on a screen the size of a wall, I think there's something authentic about watching it on a small TV screen – brings back memories. At least I got to watch it with other people this time.

Can we go with plan B and I'll come over for New Year's? Don't know why we don't make that Plan A every year!

Oh, and just to add to the joy, Metro Detective Justin Kemp was our 'liaison' on the case. The Justin Kemp who is now married to Lisa Vanderlicht. Do you remember Lisa? We dated for a few months after I broke up with Wendy – I thought for a while she might be the one but it fizzled out. I don't blame her: after all who'd want the name Vanderlicht-DiNozzo? It hasn't exactly got a snappy ring, has it? I don't why Kemp is always so snarky about it all – it's not as if we knew Lisa at the same time. I guess he just feels insecure. Still, like I said, it added to the happy mix and Ziva got a few digs in about what I missed out on – treated Kemp like a long lost brother.

Still, never mind, we all bonded over popcorn and cider and Gibbs managed to turn up before the end of the movie. All in all, not a bad Christmas Day. A lot better than some and at least it wasn't as dramatic as my first one at NCIS!

Kate is swimming in and out of her Christmas grotto, inspecting it for ambush points! If she wasn't so busy, she'd send her love but you'll just have to make do with mine.

Ciao

Tony

NCISNCIS

Mary was spending some time re-reading Tony’s Christmas letters and she smiled as she re-read this one and saw the lopsided robin Tony had drawn by his name. She sometimes wondered what his crime scene sketches looked like: his cartoons tended to be Dali-esque.

She kept Tony's Christmas letters together and now she pulled out the one he had written after his first Christmas in Washington. It was written from Gibbs' house as Tony had been temporarily homeless. He and Wendy had been going to move into an apartment after their wedding but when that had been called off the apartment had also fallen through. Tony had already given notice on his current apartment so faced living in a hotel until he found somewhere else to live. Gibbs had taken pity on his shell-shocked young agent and taken him home with him – with strict instructions not to touch anything and to make alternative arrangements quickly. Tony, with a real anxiety about possible head trauma, had agreed to find somewhere at once but he had still been at Gibbs' for Christmas.

Dear Mary

I have a confession to make. Do you remember when I was staying with you when Carl was getting better from the hit and run? Well, one day I was stuck in the house with nothing to do – I couldn't put the TV on because Carl was asleep and I couldn't go out in case he needed me. So I started reading a book you'd borrowed from the library – 'Regency Fop' or something like that and (please don't tell anyone) I got hooked on it. The hero, Montague Darcy-Foulkes – I may have made that up – had a rough time in the flesh pots of eighteenth century London and was sent on a 'repairing lease' to the depths of rural Hampshire where he met the beautiful daughter of an impoverished duke and fell in love. I feel like Montague ... no, I haven't fallen in love with a beautiful woman (I'm a bit off women at the moment) but I feel the need to go on a 'repairing lease' which is, apparently, going off somewhere quiet and tranquil to repair one's shattered nerves.

Mary, my nerves are shattered. I have just spent the most traumatic Christmas ever. Oh, happy Christmas, by the way.

I'd assumed we'd be working over Christmas but Gibbs suddenly announced on Christmas Eve that Agent Balboa would be doing the Christmas Day shift but that we would be on call.

"So no drinking, DiNozzo," he reminded me. I should have said I'd go to a hotel, Mary. Or slept on a park bench – it wasn't that cold. I knew Ducky and Abby were going out of town so my backups were going to be out of reach. I had a bright idea,

"I could work if you like, Boss. Help Balboa out." I swear Gibbs looked hurt,

"DiNozzo, I've arranged for us to have the day off. I thought you'd be pleased. You've done nothing but moan for weeks about working Christmas". I think that _might_ be a bit of an exaggeration, Mary – I did whine a bit but that was because I couldn't come out to see you. "Is there a problem, DiNozzo?" he went on, "do I need to ask the Director to change all the rotas to fit in with your social calendar?" I shook my head – I may have looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights of two ton truck but sometimes I think that's what I look like about ninety percent of the time with Gibbs.

"No, Boss. Er, what are we having for Christmas dinner?" The look he have me suggested that Christmas dinners are for wimps. "I'll take care of it, Boss".

We went back to Gibbs' house separately and I went to the supermarket to get the Christmas food. Gibbs had disappeared into the basement by the time I got back and I figured he'd be down there all night. It was Christmas Eve, Mary and I'm a traditionalist so I decided to brave the Gibbs' kitchen. The mulled cider went all right – I remembered what you said about not letting it boil and it smelled good. I had a couple of glasses and I think that sort of gave me courage to go and beard the Gibbs in his lair. I ladled out a glass for him and went down to the basement. He looked a bit puzzled to see alcohol in something that wasn't a jelly glass but he drank it anyway and even half smiled.

"It's a tradition, Boss. I'm going to make the caramel popcorn now". I think it's probably Gibbs' fault, Mary. He could have said 'no' but I think that cider mellowed him. Either that or the half bottle of bourbon he'd already drunk.

Anyway, I went back upstairs and started on the popcorn. I should say that Gibbs doesn't have a microwave. It's a long time since I made caramel popcorn from scratch on a gas stove. In fact, I've only ever watched you making caramel popcorn from scratch. It's more complicated than I thought. And I might have got distracted trying to find 'It's a Wonderful Life' on a station that Gibbs' prehistoric TV can get. Well, obviously not _pre-historic_ because TV hadn't been invented then. See, I'm rambling. It's because my nerves are shattered.

Anyway, I'd found the station. Moved the couch, just a little, so I'd be in a perfect viewing position and then I smelt something a bit odd. Not unpleasant, you understand; sort of sweet and fudgy. I stood there for a couple of minutes trying to think what it reminded me of and then I heard something. For someone who's a bit of a technophobe, Gibbs does have some modern appliances. One of them is a smoke alarm. Which was going off. I ran into the kitchen which was full ... of smoke. I think I might have let the caramel cook for too long. I'm a trained federal agent, used to coping with emergencies and stressful situations but I may have panicked a bit. (You won't ever show this letter to anyone, will you?) I grabbed the saucepan and went to put it in the sink but the sink was full of the breakfast dishes which I'd been supposed to wash. So then I was going to put it outside but the backdoor was locked so I ended up running round the kitchen trying to think what to do.

I have a feeling that throwing the pan through the window wasn't the best thing to do. Especially as the window was shut. In my defence, the pan handle was hot and I had to let it go. At least the smoke was able to escape through the hole in the window. That meant that when Gibbs bounded up the stairs from the basement, he could see what was going on. So could the fire department who arrived a few minutes later. Gibbs' neighbours are really watchful – they'd called 911 as soon as they saw the smoke coming out.

Gibbs is good in a crisis. He watched as the fire fighters put the fire out on his stove (I forgot to mention that the stove caught fire). Oh, and then he took me in a cab to the emergency room to get the burn on my hand looked at. Good news is that it's my left hand so I can still write. Bad news is ... almost everything else, really. I've noticed that Gibbs can go even quieter than normal when things go wrong and he gets this sort of thin-lipped pained look. He's had that a lot recently.

We got back from the emergency room about 2am – seems a lot of people are accident prone on Christmas Eve. I tried to point this out to Gibbs but he didn't seem impressed.

Turns out that Gibbs had bought all the fixings for a Christmas dinner – huge turkey, cranberry sauce, potatoes – everything. Problem was that he couldn't cook it because the stove was bust. We had pizza instead. Mary, don't ever let Uncle Vincenzo or my DiNozzo cousins know that I've eaten turkey and cranberry pizza: I think they'd disown me. My half-Italian stomach wasn't all that impressed either.

My Christmas present to Gibbs wasn't very successful either. I got him a set of John Wayne DVDs – Mary, who doesn't have a DVD player these days? Well, Gibbs apparently. He gave me a Sears gift card and pointed out that they have a great home improvement department which sells paint and stuff. There _is_ a bit of a black patch on the ceiling over the stove.

I did make him smile in the end though. I've found a new place. I'm moving in next week.

Like I said, Mary. I need to go on one of those repairing leases.

Love

Tony.

Mary chuckled as she finished the second letter. She looked at the one-antlered, slightly forlorn reindeer Tony had drawn sitting next to his name; no, the cartoons hadn't improved.

She hoped that this Christmas would be less dramatic. It looked as if the MCRT team was having the holidays off this year. Tony was still on desk duty as his ankle was still a bit wobbly and the rest of the team were tired from covering for him. Director Vance had decided to let them all have the week of Christmas off and use up some of their backed up vacation time.

Gibbs was going to Stillwater to visit with Jackson. Abby was going to spend time with the nuns. McGee and Sarah were spending time with Penny. Ducky was going to lunch with Palmer and Breena. Tony was going to stay with Carl and Mary for a couple of days and bring Kate with him.

"What do you want to do, Tony?" asked Mary, wanting to make it a special occasion.

"Nothing really," said Tony.

"Nothing?" asked Mary, a little surprised.

"Do you know which my best Christmas was?" replied Tony.

Mary didn't quite know why he seemed to be changing the subject. She thought back through his Christmases. There was the time he'd been taken to Lapland to see Father Christmas – that was a year the Paddingtons had looked after him. Then there was the time he'd gone to St Peter's Square in Rome for the Christmas Day Mass; that had been a DiNozzo occasion. There had been skiing holidays with Senior in Gstaad and Klosters, beach parties in the Bahamas ... it was hard to think which would rank as the best for Tony.

"The year I was thirteen," he said.

"Tony, you had chickenpox that year," laughed Mary.

"I know, best Christmas ever," said Tony.

Mary remembered. Tony had come down with chickenpox a couple of days before the vacation began. He had been due to go with Senior to some ski resort but those plans had to be cancelled when the spots appeared. Mary had got a call from Tony's school explaining that Mr DiNozzo had called to say that he needed Tony to stay there over Christmas. It didn't seem that his plans could be altered to include a sick child but perhaps Mary's could.

So Tony had gone to stay with Mary and her new husband. It wasn't a bad case of chickenpox but it made him a bit listless and docile, content just to lay on the couch and watch movies – and play with the enormous box of Lego that his English family had sent over as a Christmas present. Mary hardly got a look in as Tony and Carl bonded over building improbable garages, tower blocks and police stations. Yes, Mary reflected, that had been a wonderful Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I'd be able to combine my love for Regency novels with NCIS!


	18. Faith

Dear Mary

Well, Christmas at NCIS delivered its usual heart-warming mix of family love and togetherness – HAH! It was bad enough that a young lieutenant was found murdered just before Christmas but even worse, after a number of 'unpleasant' discoveries to find that he'd been killed by his younger brother. I can't imagine what sort of Christmas that family is going to have. You know, Mary, the number of crimes that happen within families makes me grateful sometimes that my family ties are well, less passionate than some. There's not much danger that Senior will get stirred up enough about anything to knock me off although perhaps, to be on the safe side, I should drop some hints about having made my will and him  _not_ being in it.

Gibbs was doubly twitchy about the whole thing. The young lieutenant's father was a retired marine colonel and I think Gibbs can't help but mentally stand to attention when a colonel heaves into view. Added to that, Jackson was in town – bearer of delicious homemade candy – but obviously troubled about something. He nearly managed to burn Gibbs' house down: doesn't he know that's my job!

On the plus side, I completely nailed my Secret Santa! I drew Delores Bromstead who has the knack of sucking every drop of joie-de-vivre from every place and situation she graces with her presence. Ziva insisted that she's just 'misunderstood' but I think Ziva's just practising being nice for her citizenship test. She could practise trying to understand  _me_  some time.

Anyway, Delores was a real challenge and I decided to treat the problem as if it was a case. Unfortunately my usual approach of suspecting the wife wouldn't work but I was not to be thwarted and my superior investigative skills meant that I found the perfect present. And, do you know something, Mary, it was totally worth it when I saw her reaction. She was bowled over by her 'Knee-high Cherry Pie Doll'; I thought she was going to cry. And although that's not why I did it, I think I've got a new friend in Human Resources!

I'm hoping I've nailed Kate's Christmas present too – it's a little glittery windmill which I think she'll like but she's a bit unpredictable ...

Love

Tony

Mary finished re-reading the Christmas letter and wondered for a moment why Tony had drawn a festive hedgehog by his name. Perhaps it was a grumpy Gibbs? Then she realised it was a melting snowman ... possibly, or a Christmas pudding?

She thought back to Delores Bromstead who had indeed become something of an ally to Tony. Mary wondered what would have happened if Delores had been on Tony's side when Director Vance had issued that sudden directive about becoming Agent Afloat; perhaps he wouldn't have had to leave so abruptly.

Mary pulled herself back to the present day and thought over the plans for Christmas. She had been touched when Tony had said that the 'chickenpox Christmas' was his favourite and so she had not arranged anything 'special' for their Christmas together.

Ducky was going to come the day after for a 'Boxing Day' English high tea in the afternoon. Tony wondered privately how authentic it would be, given the length of time that had passed since either Mary or Ducky had lived in the UK but it made them happy so he left them to their planning.

Mary looked at her watch. Tony was coming in the afternoon to help her take cakes and sandwiches down to St Matilda's Church for refreshments during the rehearsals for the Christmas Eve pageant. Mary had promised Tony that they would go early enough for him to be able to avoid bumping into any of the children! The doorbell sounded proclaiming Tony's arrival. She went to let him in and smiled to see him wearing the cream sweater given him by Jackson along with a crimson tie to add a festive note.

"Reporting for duty, Ma'am," he said with a mock salute which would have made Gibbs shudder. Mary pointed him in the direction of the kitchen where the counter was covered with plastic boxes. "I thought it was a Christmas pageant, not 'Ben Hur'", he said, "how many people are you going to feed?"

Mary laughed, "Hopefully not too many with appetites like yours when you were nine," she said.

"Hey, I was a growing boy, building up this magnificent body," he protested. Mary just smiled and started loading him down with boxes. He trailed behind her obediently to put it all in her car. The church was just on the corner and Tony had wondered why Mary had said they would drive there but now Tony understood, when Mary set out to feed people, they were  _fed._

Tony wondered afterwards whether he should have volunteered to work Christmas after all; he was sure his ankle would have stood up to it. They arrived at St Matilda's to find a crisis building. Tony knew he was good in a crisis but that didn't mean that he went looking for them.

The pageant organiser, Chrissy Lamond, was in the lobby when Tony and Mary arrived.

"Oh, Miriam, you'll have to take it all back," she said gloomily. Tony's eyes brightened a bit at the thought that he might get to eat some of Mary's goodies.

"Why?" asked Mary.

"I shall have to cancel the pageant," wailed Chrissy dramatically.

"Why?" asked Mary again.

"David's wife has gone into labour," said Chrissy. Tony was mystified,

"In the church?" he said. Chrissy cast him a look of pure dislike. He took a step backwards. Mary intervened; for someone who was supposedly confident around women, Tony did sometimes lose his nerve.

"David is due to play the piano for the pageant," she explained, "and I'm guessing that he can't now."

"It's their third child," said Chrissy peevishly, "I'm sure Marigold knows what to do by now, I'm sure he could slip away if he really wanted to." Mary looked at her, hard, and Chrissy looked apologetic, "I'm sorry, I don't what I'm saying but really, after all this work."

"There's no need to let this food go to waste," said Mary practically, "they can still have their tea. What does Reverend Tom say?"

"Huh", said Chrissy scornfully, "he says that  _something_  will turn up and, if it doesn't, the children will just have to sing unaccompanied. Huh, typical! It's all right for  _him_ , just standing there and letting  _me_  do the running round!"

Mary could see that Tony was a bit bemused at the venom being shown about the minister and whispered, "Chrissy is married to Reverend Tom. Go and take the food to the kitchen, would you? Just down the hallway." Tony went off as directed, not sure whether the fact that Chrissy was married to Tom made it any better. As he left, he heard Mary say,

"Don't you have CDs that the children could sing to?" He didn't quite catch Chrissy's response but its tone was unmistakable. Somehow he didn't think St Matilda's Christmas Pageant would be using taped music. The discussion between Chrissy and Mary was still going on by the time Tony had finished unloading all the food so he wandered into the church to stay out of the way. He had great faith in Mary's ability to calm the troubled waters of Chrissy and he was happy to leave her to it.

The church reminded him of the one near to his childhood home in New York and his mind turned back to the Christmas pageants he had attended before he went away to boarding school. He knew that the other children had always been very excited about performing but his enjoyment had always been tempered by the uncertainty of whether or not Senior would turn up to watch. He had a vague memory of playing a rabbit (why a rabbit, he wondered?) one year and his mom watching proudly as he hopped down the aisle. Was that a real memory, he pondered, or another he had 'borrowed' or flipped from something else?  He thought it was real, he could remember the perfume she had been wearing when she had hugged him afterwards by a stained glass window much like the one he stood before now.

He swallowed against the unexpected emotion. He was rarely sad nowadays when he thought about his mother but this was a fresh memory and had the power to stir his feelings. He found himself standing by the piano and touched a key experimentally. He went to find Mary.

Everyone agreed afterwards that St Matilda's Christmas Pageant was one of the best ever. Chrissy smiled in awe at her husband who had been right ... again. Something had indeed 'turned up' in the form of an accompanist who knew all the carols, who seemed to know when to play loud, when to play softly, when to fill in because a shepherd had left his sheep at the back of the church and had to run to find it. An accompanist who knew when the children needed help and when they could sing confidently. An accompanist who knew how long to leave the church in silence and who knew when music was needed to cover the sound of the wise men debating whether or not it was time to show up with the presents. And such an elegant, handsome accompanist too in his cream sweater and crimson tie.

"You must be very proud of your boy, Miriam," said the tardy shepherd's mom. Mary opened her mouth to explain and then changed her mind for, in all that was important, Tony was 'her boy'.

"Yes, I am," she said, "very proud". Tony came up at that moment, put his arm round her, and said,

"Let's go home. Carl will be wondering where we are." They left to cries of, "Thank you. Come again, won't you? Thank you. Happy Christmas".

NCISNCIS

Tony insisted that they watch 'It's a Wonderful Life" as usual. Unusually, however, Carl and Mary didn't have to listen to much of a running commentary as Tony was occupied in eating caramel popcorn and drinking mulled cider. He had made the caramel popcorn himself – 'from scratch' – he was very proficient now although Gibbs would never let him make it in his kitchen again. They stayed up to midnight to watch Christmas Day in, toasted one another one more time in mulled cider and then went to bed.

They opened their presents after a hearty breakfast cooked by Carl. Tony had bought Carl the latest biography of William Shakespeare and promised him a game of golf at the Army and Navy Club. On Mary's first Christmas with the DiNozzos, Tony had made her a clay bird and somehow, since that time, his traditional gift was always some type of bird ornament. She still had the original bird and now she placed a rather expensive crystal wren next to it.

"And I still owe you a visit to the Hirshhorn Sculpture Garden," said Tony.

He had brought his gifts from the team with him and he turned to opening them now aware that they were sometimes a mixed blessing. A soft squishy package from Ziva produced a rather tightly knit green scarf: knitting was something she had recently taken up. Tony wasn't sure if it was because she wanted to knit or because she wanted an excuse to carry more lethal weapons around. Still, he admired the scarf, which was fortunate as he knew he would not be brave enough not to wear it. McGee's gift was a book, "100 Ways to Meditate with your Goldfish" which looked surprisingly helpful although he would probably never admit it to McGee. Gibbs' gift was a carved wooden stand on which to place Kate's bowl and a matching box for her food and toys.

As he reached out for Abby's gift he accidentally knocked it to the floor and they all heard a strange hiccupping noise. He ripped the skull and crossbones paper off to reveal ... a stuffed iguana which hiccupped when its tail was twisted.

"Why did she get me an iguana?" asked Tony in a puzzled voice. Mary laughed, Tony never remembered the iguana visits.

"You haven't opened mine," she pointed out. Tony opened the small package and smiled in appreciation at the elegant blue silk tie which was revealed. Mary had impeccable taste.

"And there's something else," she said. Carl went into their bedroom and came back with a large box,

"We found this," he said, "when we were packing up the old house. We thought you might like it back."

Tony opened the box and grinned with delight when he saw the contents,

"It's my Lego," he said, "I thought that was lost years ago!"

"And we added a bit more," said Carl, pointing to a carton on top. Tony smiled again; it was a box of James Bond figures and a kit to make an Aston Martin.

NCISNCIS

Dear Mary

It seems a bit odd to be writing a letter to you when you live in the same city and I only saw you yesterday but I like writing the letters and I think you like getting them. I wanted to say thank you for Christmas ... and especially for the Lego! It just goes to prove that it's possible to have a good Christmas without chickenpox.

I think Ducky really enjoyed his 'Boxing Day' tea although I did think you and he were going to come to blows over the right way to butter/cream/jam a scone. I'm with you, of course, that it should be jam, then cream but Ducky had a point when he insisted that it should be cream first, then jam. I felt a bit ill after all the testing, but I'm all right now!

It wasn't me, by the way, who told the rest of the team what we were doing on Boxing Day. I think it was Ducky who let the cat out of the bag; he'd really been looking forward to it.

I should explain why I coughed so much when Ducky was talking about the Dundee cake. After the time when I had to babysit Mrs Mallard, Ducky invited me to tea with them. It was very nerve wracking. They had this exquisitely fine bone china tea set which terrified me. I was drinking Lapsang Souchong tea from this tiny tea cup and thought I could easily snap the handle off what was probably a priceless heirloom. I'd never had Lapsang Souchong tea and I might have enjoyed it more if I didn't suspect that Mrs Mallard had added a healthy glug of whisky to it. The sandwiches were delicious but on the thinnest bread I'd ever seen which made my hands feel huge.

Ducky told me not to eat too much but to save room for the _piéce de résistance_ – 'Mother's Dundee cake'. It looked splendid – heavily fruited with a pattern of glistening almonds on the top. Mrs Mallard cut me a huge slice and gave me what I guess could only be described as a coquettish look. She was obviously very puzzled. One moment she looked at me as if she couldn't understand what a member of the domestic staff was doing having tea with the family rather than munching away below stairs with the cook. The next moment she was obviously delighted that 'Donald' had brought an Italian gigolo to entertain her. I'm not sure which was the more terrifying! Anyway, she put this giant piece of cake on my plate – I still don't know how it bore the strain. She and Ducky both looked at me with great expectation. I was about to take a mouthful (using the silver cake fork, you'll be pleased to know) when I noticed that they weren't having any. When I asked why, Mrs Mallard said in a seductive tone,

"I watching my figure, don't you know?" Ducky patted his stomach and said regretfully, and not in a seductive voice,

"Alas, I too must watch my waistline. But we shall enjoy watching you eat. Go on."

And so I did, as they watched every mouthful. Oh, Mary, I don't know what she forgot to put it in it ... does sugar go in cakes? Is gin an ingredient? Let's say, I think one was missing and one was there in quantity. I had about six cups of tea to help it down. At the end of it all, I kissed Mrs Mallard's hand, patted all the corgis, shook Ducky's hand and tottered off to find a cab. Somehow I thought I'd be over the alcohol limit from the Dundee cake and that tea. No wonder I choked when Ducky tried to give me a slice yesterday.

Anyway, Kate loves her new little Lego castle and seems to have fallen in love with the little James Bond figure that lives in it. How shallow of her! She is besotted and has no love to spare for me to send you so you'll just have to make do with mine.

Love

Tony.

Mary smiled as she read the letter. The apartment was a lot quieter now that Tony and Kate had gone and  _much_  quieter than when the rest of Tony's team had drifted in.

It was the first time Carl had met Ducky but there was no time for awkwardness as Ducky remembered Carl was a golfer and was soon regaling him with tales of his own escapades on various Scottish golf courses. When Tony and Mary started laying the table for tea, Ducky interrupted himself to explain the virtues of the Scottish shortbread and Dundee cake he had brought with him.

"The shortbread comes from my second cousin once removed, or is twice ... no matter, who lives in Glasgow and always makes a point of sending me a batch of her homemade biscuits, I mean cookies, Carl. The Dundee cake is not from Scotland, I fear, but I have found a very good baker around the corner from my new abode and I gave him my dear mother's recipe. Anthony, you remember Mother's Dundee cake, don't you?" Tony had gone pale and coughed. Mary had been worried for a moment but the door bell had rung distracting her. She had been surprised to find Abby and McGee standing there. Abby had hugged her,

"Mrs Forrest, I hope you don't mind but Ducky said he'd be here with Tony. I missed them over Christmas and I won't see them for  _days_. Can we come in? The nuns sent these gingerbread people ... you won't eat them head first, will you?"

Mary had welcomed them in. McGee's eyes had lit up when he saw the pile of Lego lying in one corner. Mary had banished it from the table while they had tea.

"McGoo, what are you doing here? I thought you were playing happy families with Penny?" called Tony.

"I was, but she heard about a sit-in near the Capitol building so went along to help. I phoned Abby and she said she was coming over here. Is that  _your_  Lego?"

Tony and McGee had then abandoned the others and sat down on the floor so Tim could examine what Carl and Tony had built so far. Tim's eyes were full of envy – there was much he admired about Tony but finding out that he had such a big collection of Lego topped it all. Mary couldn't help but add to it,

"Didn't your Uncle Vincenzo take you to the Legoland in Denmark once, Tony?"

Tony nodded casually. McGee was almost lost for words,

"You've been to the  _original_  Legoland? Wow!"

Mary thought it was a bit like being back with thirteen year olds.

She wasn't greatly surprised when the doorbell rang again to reveal Ziva standing there with a plate of cookies in her hand.

"Abby phoned to say that you were all meeting here. I hope you don't mind, Mrs Forrest?"

Mary waved her in and introduced her to Carl who was astounded at her beauty and obviously, to Mary anyway, trying to work out where her weapons might be hidden. Ziva and Carl spent a happy time gently flirting with one another and discussing the differences between American and Hebrew poetry.

Mary was surprised, however, when the door bell sounded again and she found Gibbs standing there.

"Ducky said you were meeting here. Dad sent some of that candy DiNozzo liked so much."

Tony's face lit up when he saw Gibbs and Mary, for the moment at least, forgave Gibbs all the pain he had sometimes caused Tony.

"Boss, I thought you were in Stillwater. Is Jackson OK?"

"Yeah, he's fine. Few too many Stillwater widows buzzing round him, so I came away".

"Any of those widows after you, Boss?" said Tony cheekily. For a moment Gibbs' hand went up to deliver a familiar rebuke but he caught Mary's eye in time and simply delivered a pat on the shoulder instead. Mary rewarded him with a cup of the blackest, strongest coffee she had ever made.

As the afternoon progressed, Ziva left Carl and joined Abby, Tony and McGee in building a new Lego version of the Navy Yard. Carl and Gibbs discovered a shared interest in roses while Ducky and Mary reminisced about life in the United Kingdom.

Tony's cell rang but he didn't hear it as he was engaged in a noisy discussion with Abby over the merits of the new NCIS headquarters having a state of the art movie theatre rather than an additional forensics lab. Gibbs picked the phone up and was about to throw it over to him when he spotted the caller ID – 'Senior'. He held it up for Mary to see, he gestured to indicate that he would reject the call. Mary nodded in approval so Gibbs rejected the call and then shut the cell off.

"Another cup of coffee, Agent Gibbs?" she asked. Gibbs nodded,

"I'll help you," he said and followed her into the kitchen.

"No need for our boy to be disturbed today," said Mary.

"No," agreed Gibbs, "plenty of time for that tomorrow."

NCISNCIS

Mary looked again at the letter. Tony had drawn his traditional Christmas cartoon but it was much better than usual. A little Tony was giving a heart to an angel who looked very much like Mary. Mary smiled, 'silly boy.'

 


End file.
